Pain is Life
by Mercy P. Jones
Summary: Set after X3. A life without a little bit of pain is not a life. Pain is how you know you are still alive, without it the good things become meaningless. Pain is Life. ROMY JOTT KIOTR ANLOCKE. WIP
1. An Agent, a Thief, a Teacher, and a Psyc

AN: Sorry about the disappearance of my fics... let's just say Me + "certain drinks" + fanfiction "equals" (won't let me use the frickin' sign!) nothing good... However, I decided to rewrite this, so hopefully you'll like it better. I also decided to take it in a slightly different direction...

BTW: Pain is Life was always a working title. Any suggestions?

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men... if I did... well, let's just say Remy + Me + Scott "equals" naughty naughty... ::grins::

Prologue: _An Agent, a Thief, a Teacher, and a Psychiatrist._

_In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move._

* * *

His body jerked. 

Since Gambit woke up, it was the first movement he had seen from the other man. To be honest, he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

Gambit studied the man's features again. He wasn't bad looking. He was tall, at least 6'1". He had thick unkempt brown hair and a five o'clock shadow forming along a strong jaw. He looked to be in good shape, though it was honestly hard to tell from the baggy torn jeans and dirty red shirt covered by the leather bomber jacket. The man was held down to a metal examination table. A slab of metal seemed to be placed strategically over each of his ankles, wrists, and an even thicker one over his chest.

Gambit was also held down to a metal examination table just like the unconscious man. It was cold against his bare back and caused involuntary chills to run down his spine. Unlike the other man, Gambit had been stripped down to just a pair of thin white pants. Extremely uncomfortable, especially when it was as cold as it was in the room. You'd think he would have become accustomed to the temperature for how long he'd been here.

Suddenly bored with his examination, Gambit rolled his eyes away from the man and scanned the room once more. It was one of those rooms you only see in the movies. A perfectly square room framed by painfully white walls. The entire ceiling seemed to be a light, making it impossible for him to stare at it. There were no doors that Gambit could see, but he knew there obviously had to be an entrance somewhere. He had been awake for maybe ten minutes and had yet to see any sign of one.

The fact that he was awake for so long was, in itself, almost a miracle. There would be a few times where he would wake up in one of these rooms. Sometimes he would be alone, other times he would see a blur of faces above him, each one wearing doctor masks. In both scenarios, he'd suddenly get dizzy once more before fading into the familiar black.

The man spasmed.

Gambit quickly turned his attention back to the unconscious man only to find him not so unconscious. And his spasm wasn't a spasm at all actually. No, the man was struggling as if his life depended on it. His eyes were closed tightly and his face was twisted in an expression that Gambit had only ever seen once or twice in his life.

Gambit's eyes ticked to the stranger's now bleeding wrists.

He frowned.

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was the pain in his head. It throbbed against his skull. He couldn't help but wonder if Piotr had accidentally hit him with a baseball bat or if Bobby had iced the floor in front of his bedroom door again. 

When he couldn't move his hand towards his head, his heart began to pound. It was bound to his side, and so was his other one. He could feel the same cold metal against both his ankles. If it wasn't for the fact the the familiar weight of his glasses weren't there, he would have opened his eyes. After all, the first thing he was trained to do was to calmly assess and understand his surroundings.

However, they weren't there, so he couldn't calmly see anything. So there was only one thing for him to do; struggle violently. He thrashed his body about and could feel the metal restraints digging into his wrists and ankles to the point where it broke through his skin. He clamped his eyes shut to the point where the ache behind his eyes grew worse.

_Scott?_

Suddenly he was assaulted by memories. Mainly, the last thing he remembered; Jean. She had been alive and it had been like a dream. He could look at her without his glasses, without being afraid of hurting her. She had control, she said. They kissed. Then...

Then what happened?

He couldn't remember, and it made the ache all the more powerful. He let out a shout, as if it would relieve him of something. However, he was left disappointed. It did nothing but make him realize the back of his throat was sore and dry.

"Mon Dieu! Stop strugglin', _homme_! It ain't gonna do ya no good."

His blood turned cold. How could he not realize someone else was there in the room with him? Wasn't that always one of the first questions you asked yourself; how many other people are in the room?

He stopped his struggling and set his jaw, which caused another dull ache, "Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?"

The voice was almost light, amused even. It sounded as if the man had expected that kind of comment. "Gambit don't want not'in' wit' ya, _homme_. If ya actually opened ya eyes ya'd see Gambit be a pris'ner just like you."

If he thought he felt cold before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. Did this man just say _prisoner_? Why was he a prisoner? He hadn't done anything. But that had never stopped people from putting mutants in prisons before...

"I can't." His voice was almost confident and proud, like the leader he was trained to be, "I'm a mutant," He thought over his next words carefully, "To put it bluntly, I shoot, uh... lasers from my eyes. I can't control it."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence. It almost sent chills down Scott's spine. He found himself wanting the man to respond quickly.

"Interestin' information dere, _homme. Mais_ dat collar 'round yer neck was made t' somehow suppress de mutant gene. Ya can open yer eyes."

Scott frowned. Should he trust him? If he opened his eyes would nothing happen or would he blast a hole into some unsuspecting person or object? Deciding to take a chance, he slowly began to open his eye. He winced and immediately closed his eyes again at the bright white light that seemed to be placed strategically right above his head. Trying again, he was more prepared for the assault and managed to open them. He blinked in surprise when he realized the ceiling and light were no longer in the familiar red hue and did not blow away.

But like every good thing that happens to you, there's a draw back. Being strapped down to a metal table not included. His eyes itched painfully. Not just itched, but burned, as if the optic blasts were just waiting to tear out from wherever they were being held and blow the painfully white ceiling away. But, to be honest, he would rather have that feeling than the feeling of being scared of hurting somebody without his glasses.

"Nice to see ya join de world o' de seein', _mon ami_."

He rolled his head to his right and met the eyes of the man. Scratch that. The red on black eyes of a man strapped to a metal table just like himself only a few feet away. Scott had to admit he was slightly startled at the man's eyes. He had never seen eyes like that before. But to be honest, the metal collar around his neck was what held Scott's attention.

The stranger grinned at him, as if pleased with the startled reaction. "De name be Gambit, _mon ami_. What's yers?"

The fact that Gambit didn't actually give his real name, was not lost on Scott. Whether it was a hint or not, Scott wasn't sure, but he did know that if Gambit wasn't going to give his real name, neither should he.

"Cyclops." The stranger opened his mouth, but Scott cut him off. He had a feeling the man was about to make some smart ass comment. He was around enough smart asses to know when they were about to say something like that, "Where are we? What do they want?"

Gambit shrugged. "Gambit not sure where 'ere is, _mais_ he does know why." The look he gave Scott released the shivers that had been threatening to go down the older man's back since he woke up, "We be mutants, you and I. Dis _bâtard fou _be doin' experiments."

Wolverine suddenly came to mind, and Cyclops was almost certain that the rampage his heart had been doing earlier had now come to a dead stop.

He managed to choke out a word, "Experiments?"

Gambit merely nodded, a dark look in his eyes. He obviously hated being the bearer of bad news.

Scott took in a deep breath and tried to collect his thoughts, "Are there any others here? Any mutants?"

Gambit nodded again, "_Oui_. Dis place be full o' mutants o' all ages. Most be experiments," He scowled, "all de others be de ones doin' de experiments."

Scott's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Dread came over him as he realized what Gambit was saying. "Wait! Mutants experimenting on other mutants?!" Gambit didn't even need to nod, "Why?!" Gambit shrugged and closed his eyes before turning his head up to look up at the ceiling, his face suddenly becoming blank. A thought suddenly hit Scott and he spoke softly, "Have they done anything to you?"

Gambit's expression never changed, though his voice betrayed him, "Gambit be here a few months, _homme. _What do you think?"

Scott frowned.

_Scott!_

Scott eyes snapped back up to the wall behind Gambit. Jean? He took in a shaky breath as he remembered Alkali Lake. Not when Jean died, but when he went back. When her voice was too loud and too frequent. When she was suddenly alive again. Was it just a dream or did it really happen? And if it did happen, then where...

Scott suddenly found himself struggling violently again. He ignored the questioning gaze from red eyes. It was a small chance, but if she was here, then he needed to find her

* * *

A groan escaped from the back of his dry throat and passed his chapped lips. His head was still pounding, his eyes still burned, and his wrists and ankles itched from his earlier struggles. To top it off, his stomach had decided to follow in Kurt's footsteps and become an acrobat. 

He groaned again and clutched at his stomach. What was wrong with him?

Scott blinked in surprise before slowly sitting up. And why had he not noticed the sudden change in surroundings? Normally, that would be something he would notice immediately. Now he was in a tiny room with three bright white walls and a set of metal bars overlooking some type of hallway. The only thing in the room with him was a metal toilet. He wrinkled his nose in disgust before realizing he was the only one in the room.

He shivered at the sudden rush of cold wind on his back. It took him a moment to register that it was on his bare back. Scott looked down at his clothes only to find himself wearing the exact same thing he had seen Gambit wearing earlier; a pair of thin white pants and no shirt. His jacket, t-shirt, jeans, and shoes were all gone. He really liked that jacket too.

Wait...

How did he get here in the first place?

Shakily, Scott managed to push himself up to his feet. He took a few shaky steps towards the bars, "Where the hell am I now?"

He jumped as someone scoffed. A woman's voice seemed to float in from nowhere, "Hell if I know, tiger. I'm in the same boat as you."

It didn't take him long to figure out the woman was in the room next to him. He silently wondered how many rooms there were as he leaned in towards the bars. He jumped back with a gasp as his hands just barely touched the warm metal. His hands and arms now tingled painfully. It was like that feeling where your feet fall asleep, except, you know, painful.

The woman snickered, "Oh yeah. You probably don't wanna touch the bars, kid."

Scott rolled his eyes in annoyance, "Gee, thanks. And I'm not a kid." He hadn't been called a kid in sometime actually.

"Don't mind her, _homme_. De _chere_ be jus' a lil' irritated wit' Gambit, is all."

The familiar voice drifted down from the same direction as the woman's voice, just somewhere farther away. Probably on the other side of her cell. If what they were in could be called cells.

Scott couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved that Gambit was there as well.

"Shut up, Cajun! The moment we get outta here I'm gonna be sure and turn you in!" Her voice was sharp and held something of a Brooklyn accent. She was obviously not too happy at the moment. Not that Scott could blame her.

Gambit's voice was once again, light and amused. "Aw! Have a heart, _chere_! Gambit neva' hurt nobody!" Beat. "Heh, well, not killed anybody… purposely."

"My ass."

"_Est chaud._"

"CAJUN!"

Laughter and curses followed.

Scott sighed and rubbed his temples. He felt like he was back at the school trying to mediate a daily dispute between Rogue and Pyro or a dispute between Jubilee and Kitty about boys.

"My God! You two are worse than my students!" He blurted that out a little louder than intended. In fact, he hadn't been planning on saying that all. So, why did he?

The silence that filled the room was incredibly thick.

"You're a teacher." The woman was obviously surprised with this revelation.

Scott cleared his throat. He had spoken without thinking. He was sure there was something wrong with him now. He was normally so together and would not say anything unless he absolutely thought it necessary, "Uh... Yeah, I am."

Gambit's response was more casual than what Scott was expecting, "Where at?"

Scott debated on whether or not he should answer him. What if this was some type of trap? What if the government... Scott stopped his thoughts and sighed. Logan was rubbing off on him a little too much. "Xavier's School for the Gifted."

The woman let out a low whistle, "I've heard of that place. Pretty hard school to get into. Heard most of the students don't apply and are actually sought out. Also heard that the Professor who runs it is a big supporter of mutant rights."

Scott nodded, though neither could see him, "He is…" He was a little distracted at the moment. He hadn't even meant to say the school's name aloud! He had just been debating on whether or not to say it, but then he lost his train of thought and... it just came out. He let out a sigh and leaned against the wall and slid down into a sitting position.

"What do you two do?"

The two strangers were both silent for a moment before he heard a sigh.

"I'm Agent Carol Danvers with S.H.I.E.L.D."

He was in here with a government agent. That was new. He couldn't help but wonder what Wolverine would think about that. The man had become paranoid when the government was involved, not that Scott could blame him.

"Gambit be a t'ief."

Scott rose an eyebrow and looked up at the ceiling, "Quite an assortment of characters they have here."

Carol scoffed, "An agent, a thief, and a teacher. Sounds like a bad joke. Can't wait to see who's behind door number 4. I'll be pissed if it's a psychiatrist."

Scott sat up straight, "There's someone else here?"

"_Oui, mais_ they've been out since dey came, which was a few days after Gambit. Not sure if it be a_ homme ou femme._ They already done a number of experiments on 'im though."

Scott sighed and mumbled to himself, "We need to get out of here."

"Really?" Carol's voice was filled with obvious sarcasm, "Now why didn't I think of that?"

Scott clenched his jaw in irritation. Purely out of habit, he switched over to, what his students like to call, his angry teacher's voice, "Look, I don't need your sarcastic comments, Ms. Danvers. There has to be some way out of here."

"If dere was a way out of 'ere, _mon ami_, trust me, Gambit woulda found it."

Scott didn't say anything, and instead welcomed the local silence

* * *

The next time he woke up, his eyes stung so bad they watered. He grunted in pain at the ache behind his eyes and buried his eyes in his hands. He couldn't help but bring his knees to his chest and rock back and forth, trying to ease the pain somehow. It hurt so much! It felt like they were on fire! His breath was ragged and shallow before he somehow managed to regain his composure and steadied himself to long deep breaths. It didn't help the severe pain any, but it did calm him down a bit. 

That is, until he heard a noise. He looked up through the bars, his vision blurred slightly by the tears in his eyes. He watched as a woman with white and green hair, and a man with black hair dragged an unconscious blonde woman past his cell. He could hear them throw her in the cell next to him before they left. Into Carol's cell. That woman had been Carol. For some reason, he hadn't pictured her as a blonde. She looked to be a few years older than himself. Probably mid to late thirties. She was also wearing a collar.


	2. It's Only Pain

AN: I want to thank those that reviewed and those that added this story to favorites list and alerts.

Thanks to: _IceBlaze, Freak87, lovestoread, Maid of the Mer, Jean 1, UraniaChang, beck57, Rogue87, truthfulies, vinh! _Please keep reviewing! It makes me happy!

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men.

Chapter 1: **It's Only Pain...**

_This calls for a particularly subtle blend of psychology and extreme violence._

* * *

He remembered when he was little and growing up in the orphan's home. Every new child admitted spent the first two week getting beat up. It didn't matter how tough you were, how brave, smart, or pretty you were. When it was one kid against an entire household, you didn't stand a chance in keeping your dignity. He had hated it and had jumped at the chance to join Professor Xavier at his school. That place had become his sanctuary. 

But now...

Now, he would gladly go back to the orphans' home and be the new kid again. Hell, he would gladly take on level 10 in the Danger Room and take on Wolverine at the same time than stay here for one more second.

He was a leader, he always found a way to gain control of a situation, no matter how out of control it seemed. It was his job, it was what he was good at. He had strategies for every scenario you could possibly think of. The students at the X-School always turned to him for advise on how to handle things and whether or not they should join the X-Men.

Now... now he was trapped in a room. A blindingly white room, with only a toilet and two voices that, if he were anywhere else would probably drive him insane, for company. He had no clue how long he had been here, he had no plan to escape, no plan for this impossible scenario that he had never even thought of.

He had seen Gambit and Carol being dragged to and from their cells many times. They were always unconscious. When they woke, they never acted as if they had just lost the time they were gone. They never acted as if they knew what was happening.

Probably because they did not really know. Scott knew they had the basic idea though. Experiments. These people were experimenting on them, and somehow knocking them out before and during these experiments so they could not remember.

_Anything._

There would be times when Scott would just wake up and not even think about the school, the Professor, his students, the orphan home, his lost little brother, or even Jean. There were times where he would wake up and all he would know was the room he was in. If it wasn't for Carol and Gambit, he would probably have forgotten a lot more.

He felt like he was going insane.

His stomach was constantly twisting and turning, complete with acrobatic moves he did not think were possible. His head hurt so bad that at times, it caused his churning stomach to worsen and made him lose his stomach in the nearby toilet. Whatever he threw up, he had a feeling it tasted better coming out than it would have going down, which made him glad he had no memory of eating anything. The worst part was his eyes. They constantly felt as if someone was trying to burn them out of his skull.

And each time he woke up, it was worse.

Especially now.

The pain had intensified. It was much more painful than it had been the last time he woke up. What it had been last time would have been a dull throb compared to what he was feeling now. It was so much more worse than anything he had ever experienced. The pain was so foreign he had no idea what to do to get rid of it. So he did the only thing he could think of; he huddled in the fetal position in the corner of the tiny room. His hands were clutched into fists above his head. If he was able to think about it, he would wonder whether or not the tears that streamed from his eyes were due to the excruciating pain or the burning behind his eyes.

It was humiliating.

Yet he could not help himself. What else could he do? He had tried screaming earlier, rocking back and forth, pulling his hair, clawing at the walls and his own skin, but nothing helped. It didn't distract him from the pain. He had even contemplated breaking one of his arms or legs just to get the focus on a different, more familiar pain.

He was glad his team could not see him now.

They would not recognize him. Now, he felt... nothing. He was numb. He was in pain, but it was the numbing kind of pain. The kind of pain where you were aware of absolutely nothing else. The kind where you actually forgot what it felt like to not feel like this.

A whimper quietly left his cracked lips. Not being able, or wanting, to make any other noise. It was, after all, moot. It wouldn't help him.

So he just laid there, whimpering in numbing pain, staring blankly out the bars of the white room.

He was just so numb..

* * *

He had been in just about every scenario possible in his short life span. He had heard and done just about everything. Yet, he still always managed to find some new type of trouble to get into. It couldn't be a coincidence that each scenario almost always came back to one person and it pissed Gambit off.

Now, because of that person, he was stuck in a tiny cell. Listening to a grown man whimper in pain. It was not the kind of whimpering he wanted to hear and it was definitely not from the right gender.

He let out a breath and leaned his head back against the cold wall. A shiver went dripping down his spine at the frigid contact. He hated the cold. No particular reason, it was just warmer where he came from. The cold made him miss home.

Gambit quickly shook himself out of that thought. He couldn't think about that place. Ever again. So instead he slid his eyes closed and tried to find something, anything, else to concentrate on. Cyclops' whimper hit his ears.

Cyclops.

Such a strange man. Strange in the way that he wasn't strange at all. Well, with the exception of being a mutant. However, the man was very straight laced. He was a teacher, which meant he either cared about people or liked being in authority. Hell, it could mean both. Gambit could see that. Oh, yes, Gambit could definitely see this man as an authority figure, a leader. And not the kind of leader that would sacrifice things for the greater good. No, this man wouldn't sacrifice something if it was important to someone, no matter how small. He cared too much.

Gambit felt the corner of his lips pull up as he pictured Cyclops running into a burning building to find some little girl's puppy.

He was a good guy. The stereotypical good guy with a gallon of hero complex poured into the mix. He didn't deserve to be here. How did a man, who had probably never done a bad thing in his entire life end up in a cell next to the Prince of Thieves?

At that thought, his fingers started to twitch. Gambit dipped his head forward and balled his hands into tight fists. He was an addict, and he admitted it. He was addicted to stealing, gambling, drinking, poker, women, and near death experiences it seemed. Though he had been in here for so long, he felt as if he was going through withdraw. He closed his arms around his chest trying to keep himself from shaking. Though he vaguely wondered if the shaking wasn't caused by something else, something he really didn't want to think about it.

Whatever was happening to him wasn't anything compared to what Cyclops was going through, and Gambit knew that. He had already gone through that stage. Yes, stage. He first noticed it with Carol. She was going through slight changes, changes he himself had already went through. And now it was Cyclops' turn.

He had a feeling that each one felt something different, but he didn't say anything and neither did they. And they probably never would.

Gambit took in a sharp breath. His body went from small tremors to violent seizures. His last comprehensible thought was the summer in New Orleans when he was 15 years old

* * *

Carol bit her lip and was slightly startled at how easily she felt the sharp pain as her tooth broke skin. Silently, she cursed. She had been invulnerable for so long, she had forgotten what it felt like to feel real physical pain. Yes, when she got shot or hit, it hurt, but not as much as it should have.

Carol sucked in her bottom lip and sucked the blood into her mouth. The coppery taste hit her tongue and she couldn't help but wince. The last time she had ever tasted blood had been when she was twelve years old and had gotten into a fist fight with her neighbor, Tommy Parker. Carol smiled slightly at that memory, even before her mutation surfaced, she had always been the tough tomboy on the street and nobody messed with her.

She let out a sigh and popped her knuckles. She rolled her neck, enjoying the feeling of the stretch and the popping noise. She immediately regretted it. Her world was now spinning faster and faster. Carol pulled her knees to her chest and closed her eyes, trying her hardest to will it away. It didn't work. She fell to the side, still curled up in a tight ball.

She wrapped her arms around her stomach, hoping to try and keep it from spinning with her. However, as her world continued to spin, Carol lost sight of what was up and what was down. She was no longer aware anything other than her stomach. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to keep her stomach from spinning or the contents from coming up her throat.

The last time she had tasted blood she had been twelve years old and Tommy Parker had gotten in a lucky shot to her jaw, making her bite her cheek. It hadn't been a great amount of blood, but it was disgusting enough that she had immediately brushed her teeth four times after the fight. She may have been a tomboy, but she was also hygienic.

So when the majority of what she heaved out of her mouth was blood, her mind lost its grasp on the last thing that kept her from going over the edge.

Carol laid on the cold floor, wrapped only in a thin pair of white pants and a thin white tank top, in the middle of her own spew. She couldn't think of anything as she laid there on her side, still heaving

* * *

Scott groaned and slowly sat up. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. In the back of his mind he wondered if he had just passed out in his cell, or if he had just been returned from another experiment. It was hard to tell sometimes. You could go to sleep here, but when you woke up you always feared somewhere in the back of your mind that you hadn't fallen asleep on your own.

He took in a shaky breath and slowly pushed himself onto his feet. He winced as his muscles cried out in protest. He leaned against the wall, using it to leverage himself and balance his weight. He started to shuffle forward, wincing each time his leg muscles tightened and screamed.

When he reached the bars, he let himself fall to his knees. He was suddenly hit with a strange feeling. He knitted his eyebrows together and clenched his jaw. He wasn't by any means a psychic, but he had learned to trust his instincts. So when the thought of something happening to Gambit or Carol entered his mind, he began to panic. They may not have been the usual crowd he kept with, but for now they were the only thing keeping him sane.

His voice was raspy and dry, and he winced in pain as his voice scratched against his throat, "Gambit? Carol?"

There were a few seconds of silence, where Scott felt his heart rate increase and he almost started to hyperventilate. He couldn't be here alone. He just couldn't. He'd go insane. He didn't how he would be able to handle this place without Carol's sarcastic comments or Gambit's skewed sense of humor.

So when Gambit's voice cut through the air, Scott felt himself relax somewhat, "Somet'in' Gambit can do for ya, _homme_?"

Scott let out a breath, "No. I just got a really strange feeling that something happened."

Gambit didn't respond to that. Scott just leaned his head back against the wall once more and took in a breath. It was a few seconds later before his eyebrows scrunched together.

"Carol?"

Scott sat there for a few seconds, waiting for a response. He felt his back stiffen, and his muscles scream out in pain at the sudden tenseness. She never responded. She wasn't in her cell. Scott closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that it was just a routine abduction. That she'd be back at some point, tired and confused, but never talking about it. Apparently, Gambit was thinking what Scott somehow knew.

"I don't t'ink she comin' back."

Scott ducked his head, feeling as though he had failed somehow, "Neither do I."

And they were right.

She was never returned to her cell

* * *

It was dark. It seemed strange somehow. As if she hadn't seen darkness in such a long time. The complete blackness actually hurt her eyes. Her body felt heavy. It was so strange. She wasn't sure what to think. She could hardly keep her eyelids open, let alone sit up. So she just laid there, on the the cold metal surface, wondering where she was.

Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She grunted. It hurt. She couldn't remember a time when anything ever hurt so much.

At that thought her muscles tightened.

Just then she felt her body convulse as what felt like electricity shot through her. She screamed out in pain, unsure of what else to do. She felt a sharp pain in her neck, just above the metal collar.

And suddenly she was out again.


	3. But It's Causing Problems

AN: Gambit may seem a little OC right now, but there's a reason, I swear! Soon, he'll be back to his usual sexy self. Rogue will be introduced in the next chapter, as will some of my other main characters in this fic. Enjoy!

Thanks to: _Freak87_, _mazdamiatta_, _Oscar_, _ishandahalf_, _beck57_, _UraniaChang_, _lovestoread_, _IcedBlaze_, _Maid of the Mer_, _Jean1_, _Ann Kathrynn_, _BenjiB_, _Neo Queen Saranity_, _Rogue87_, _RogueStar13_, _Silver-Winged-Saiyajin_, _truthfulies_, _vinh_

Chapter 2: **But It's Causing Problems...**

_"I'd make an awesome psychiatrist. Except, you know, for the fact that I don't really care about people and their problems." -- _Me ;p

* * *

It was cold. That's the first thing that his mind registered. He shivered as the wind swept through, blowing snow over his still and frozen figure. He slowly opened his eyes, feeling the familiar weight of his sunglasses. 

He frowned.

He sat up and scanned his surroundings. He was in the middle of nowhere. All he could see was the endless white snow. He was never really one for snow, but he guessed that didn't matter. He stood up and pulled his coat closer to him, trying to keep the frigid air out.

He looked down in surprise at his coat.

He began to turn around frantically, looking for anything that would answer his unsaid questions.

The cold wind seemed to give an answer as it pushed him towards some random direction. Deciding it would be better to move than to stand still, he began his journey south.

* * *

He didn't look up as the doors swung open and someone silently walked in. He just sat there, staring at the beer in his hand before taking a swig. The smell of cigar and cigarette smoke filled the bar. He didn't care what anyone said, the difference between the way a cigar and a cigarette smelled was as distinct as the difference between a rose and a skunk. 

That's why he smoked cigars.

Logan ignored the shouts from a nearby table as some drunk lost a poker game. He paid no attention to the wasted couple trying to swing dance to some punk rock song or even the loud argument two seats down from him. He just took the final gulp of his sixth bottle of beer before signaling for his seventh one.

He glared at the bartender as the wrinkled old man gave him a strange look before sliding it over. He grunted as he grabbed the beer and stood up. He stalked away from the bar and pushed his way through the door.

He could hear the sound when he was inside the bar, so he wasn't in the least bit surprised when he saw a group of guys in the middle of a fight. He walked past them, not giving them a second glance.

"Freak!"

"Demon!"

"Go back to hell!"

Logan stopped in his tracks and turned back to the fight. His frown deepened as he noticed for the first time that the group of guys in a fight was actually a group of guys beating up on one guy.

Scratch that.

One guy beating up a group of guys. Logan leaned back against someone's old Ford pickup truck and took a drink of his beer. He watched as the guy dodged and blocked each sloppily thrown punch gracefully, instinctively. The guy never once threw his own punch and though he was keeping up with the five guys wonderfully, he looked as if he could collapse any minute. But it was only when one of the guys finally landed a lucky punch to his stomach that Logan decided to step in.

Well, he didn't exactly step in. He stayed where he was, leaning against the truck.

"Hey!"

They continued to fight and someone landed a punch on the lone man's face.

Logan pushed himself off the truck, "HEY!"

They all stopped, the lone man quickly putting distance between himself and the group, and turned to look at him. Logan merely grunted as he eyed the group of boys. None of them looked to be over the age of 22.

They were kids.

"Git outta here."

The five boys just stood there and stared at him. One of them rose his chin in defiance and took a step forward. Whatever smart mouth thing he was about to say was immediately cut off as Logan let one metal claw slide half way out of his right fist.

The boys froze. The "leader" scowled and scoffed, "You're all freaks." The five turned around and headed back into the bar.

Logan slid the claw back in his hand before turning his gaze to the other guy, noticing for the first time the boy's eyes. They were a strange red on black. If Logan had been anyone else, it would have shocked him. However, Xavier's School housed so many mutant children, this physical mutation was nothing compared to some of the ones he had seen.

"You okay?"

The man nodded, rubbing the back of his gloved hand over his mouth. "I fine."

Logan grunted before turning around and heading over to his truck. Well, not _his_ truck per se, however he couldn't see Summers using it anytime soon. He quickly shook that thought out of his head. That thought has only ever led to other thoughts. And Logan _really _didn't like other thoughts.

"_Attante_!"

Logan jumped in his truck before turning his attention back to the red eyed boy. He watched as the boy slid on a pair of sunglasses as he jogged toward him.

"Dere any chance ya could give a guy a ride, _mon ami_?"

Inwardly, Logan groaned. What was with him and hitchhiking mutant kids? He had half a mind to tell the kid no, but he was quickly assaulted with an image of Rogue standing in the middle of the snow covered road as he drove away and another image of her at the Statue of Liberty. He hated to think of what would have happened to her that day in Canada had he not changed his mind and stopped.

So once again, he found himself cursing that seventeen year old girl standing in the middle of the road as he slammed his door shut. He turned and looked out the window of his truck at the kid standing there, not even a duffel back with him. He jerked his head to the side, signaling for the kid to go around.

Logan didn't even wait as he started up the truck and shifted into drive. The kid was in the passenger seat faster than Logan cared to think about. The second he heard the door slam close, he let the car go.

They both sat there in silence for a few moments, only the sound of the truck's engine in their ears, before Logan found himself getting irritated. When it was Rogue, all he wanted was for her to stop talking at first, but now... now he was thankful she was as talkative as she was.

"Where ya headin'?"

The kid looked up at him before shrugging, "Not sure. Couldn't stay dere no more though."

Logan grunted. "What's yer name, kid?"

The kid rose an eyebrow, "Dey call me Gambit."

Logan rolled his eyes. What was with mutants and superhero names? Honestly. It was starting to get annoying. He'd probably fit in perfectly with those goody two shoes down at Westchester. They'd probably be more than happy to take him in. They took in runaways and kids with questionable pasts all the time. This one would be no different. Logan glanced in his direction, taking in the kids appearance. He was wearing a pair of ratty old jeans and a black t-shirt. He also wore a well kept trench coat over his clothes. It looked to be the best kept thing on him.

He was skinny to. Looked as if he hadn't eaten in weeks, actually. Much like Rogue had at the time. His shaggy auburn hair was long and held back in a ponytail. He was unshaven and had thick stubble growing along his jaw line. He also had a nasty bruise forming on his cheekbone where the guy from earlier socked him.

Oh, boy, was he not liking himself at the moment. This scenario was all too familiar. Rogue had been a little scared thing, starving for food. This guy, this _Gambit_, was bruised up from a fight. Both needed a ride, both had nowhere to go, both looked as if their life had just been torn to shreds, and both looked like they were going to fall apart.

Logan leaned over towards his gloved compartment and pulled out a white bag before tossing it in Gambit's lap. At least he didn't wince away. "Punch it and it gets cold. Put it on your face." Gambit did as told without a word. Once the ice pack was against his cheek, Logan continued, "I'm headin' down to New York. Got some friends there that run a school. You can stay there for however long ya want," Gambit opened his mouth to speak, but Logan quickly cut him off, "They won't care 'bout you bein' a mutant, kid. They're all mutants there."

Gambit frowned, but nodded. He turned his attention back to the road ahead. He kept his face pointed in that direction, though where his eyes were, Logan had no idea. His voice surprised him, "_Merci, homme, _I'll t'ink 'bout it," Though what he asked was much more surprising, "Ya mind tellin' me where we are 'xactly?"

He asked it so casually that Logan almost answered him without thinking. He glanced at Gambit out of the corner of his eye. That was a weird question to ask, especially to a stranger. Why did everyone always trust him so frickin' much? What about him screamed, "I'm a trust worthy guy?! Ask me all your questions and tell me all your secrets!" Didn't people get that he just wanted to be alone? If he really wanted to hear about people's problems he'd be a psychiatrist, damn it.

"We're just a few minutes outside Montreal."

Logan watched as the boy stiffened in response, but didn't say anything. The boy's back was stiff and his face was blank. It was obvious he was trying not to show his fear. Unfortunately for him, Logan could smell the fear on him. It was just as strong as Rogue's the day he found her stowed away in his truck. And just like her, the boy was trying to put up a strong front.

Logan growled.

"The name's Logan."

* * *

He walked into the motel lobby, well, if that's what it could be called. It wasn't even as big as a lot of the bathrooms he had been in. Those bathrooms were cleaner to. The yellowed flowery wallpaper was peeling off, revealing the stained cement wall on the other side. The carpet was the shaggy puke color and was covered with various stains. It looked as if it would be rough and dry underneath bare feet. There were no paintings on the wall, nothing to give the place personality, with the exception of the desk on the far wall. It took up most of the the room and only held a small broken bell on its surface. The only other furniture in the room was the torn old green cushioned chair behind the desk, which was currently being occupied by some beer belly bald white man somewhere in his late 50's. 

The man never looked up from his tiny portable TV as he approached. The customer slapped a 20 dollar bill on the surface. The man glanced up and snatched the money, as if afraid the customer would change his mind, and tossed him a key.

"That'll buy ya two nights. Name?"

"Scott."

The old man snorted, but never took his eyes off the TV.

"Yer _last_ name, boy."

The old man looked up at the lack of response from his new customer. He frowned as his eyes glanced around the room. There was no one in the room with him. His customer, _Scott_, had left with the key, probably to his room. The man considered going after him for a split second. However, that thought was immediately run out of his mind as he turned his attention back to NASCAR.

* * *

They had been driving for hours on hours. The moon was out and Logan was currently wondering if the boy next to him was going to have a break down. Gambit was leaning against the door, his forehead against the cold glass, his hands in tight fists. Logan could even hear him trying to steady his breath. 

Earlier that night, Gambit had drifted asleep, even though he tried his hardest to fight it. It was obvious he was exhausted, and him falling asleep was inevitable. The entire time he was asleep, nothing had happened. It was extremely peaceful. Logan had even decided he had made the right decision in giving the kid a ride.

He cursed the X-Men for instilling their heroic ideals in his head.

Then something happened. Logan was still a little confused on what he had seen, but he could have sworn the the seatbelt Gambit was wearing started to glow. It was only for a split second, in which time Gambit's body jerked ramrod straight. His sunglasses flew off, revealing wide glowing red eyes. His eyes darted around, as if trying to figure out his surroundings. When he saw Logan, he relaxed somewhat. He cleared his throat and picked up his sunglasses.

As he slipped them on, he gave a small front, "Nightmare."

Logan just nodded, not saying anything about it. After all, he still had nightmares about whatever had happened to him all those years ago, and he hated it whenever someone asked him about it. So why say anything?

However, the boy was tense. Logan couldn't help but wonder if the kid was going to hurt himself with how stiff he looked.

Thankfully, in just a few minutes, it wasn't going to be his problem anymore.

He turned to Gambit, who was still staring blankly out the window. "We're here."

Gambit jumped at his voice and turned his attention to Logan, "Been t'inkin', _homme_, I 'ppreciate da offer n' all, _mais_ I t'ink I might jus'..."

Gambit trailed off as the truck pulled up to the gate. The view of the Institute was beautiful, even at night. It looked as if it was a giant mansion more than anything. Gambit stared at it, a strange look on his face, before he quickly schooled it back into his relaxed expression. Gambit felt his fingers twitch with a very familiar feeling. He cleared his throat, "M'be I can give it one night."

Logan smirked as he finished entering in the security code. The gates opened and Logan drove the truck through and towards the garage.

Gambit let out a small whistle as they parked. He slowly climbed out of the truck and stared at all the cars in the garage, "Either dis place gotta a lot o' students dat are rich n' can drive, or someone's gotta car obsession."

Logan climbed out of his side and stood next to Gambit for a few moments, "They belonged to one of the teachers here," He jerked his head to the side, "C'mon, kid. Let's get inside and get ya a room."

Gambit followed a few steps behind him. His eyes widened behind his sunglasses as he strolled into the mansion itself. His eyes took in every detail he could as he kept pace with Logan. The walls were decorated with everything from family photos to expensive paintings. The windows were covered with the finest tapestry. Whoever owned this place had good taste.

And a _lot_ of money.

Logan suddenly stopped in front of a room and peered in with a smirk. He casually leaned against the wall. Gambit stood back, hearing the sound of the TV playing. It was some infomercial.

"You're back."

The boy's voice was quiet. It was obvious he was young, probably just entering puberty.

Logan's smile widened and his eyes ticked over to something else in the room. "Yup." He pushed himself on the wall and jutted his chin out ever so slightly, "Got any extra rooms?"

Gambit silently walked up behind Logan, wanting to get a glimpse at the kid he was talking to. He was a small thing, maybe just five foot, with blond hair and thick glasses. He was dressed in a pair of sweats and a red t-shirt.

The boy only glanced at him before turning his attention to Logan, "John's bed is still empty. All the other beds are full." He turned back to the TV, "The school's a lot bigger now."

Logan nodded and headed up the stairs, Gambit followed after. "Hope ya don't mind havin' a roommate."

Gambit shrugged as they came to a stop at one of the doors. "I'll live."

Logan nodded. "Good." He pointed down the hall, "I'm five doors to your right. The head of the school will want to talk to you in the morning."

Gambit nodded as Logan walked off. He glanced at the door, then back the way they came. He turned his eyes back to Logan and watched as he disappeared into his room.

Gambit's fingers twitched.


	4. And I Don't Know What I'm Doing Anymore

AN: Okay, I know this took forever to get out! I blame my brother and school and work. Brother had laptop; school gave me reports; and work had me up 'till 3:30 in the morning... ;p BUT I GOT IT DONE! And I'm actually 20 now! One more year to go! (Bday was Friday 13th! Ain't that awesome?!)

I'm gonna apologize in advance on my lack of hair care knowledge. All I do is take a shower at night and brush my hair in the morning. That's it.

One more thing: I'm introducing a few other characters from the X-Men in this story. Two appear in this chapter... and yes, one is from Evo. I love X-Men: Evolution.

Also, if any of you ever visit youtube I thought I'd let you know that I posted up a ROMY music video awhile ago. It's called Some Hearts (music is Some Hearts by Carrie Underwood) and it's under the name RubyRed05 (me!) It's the first one I've ever done and I hope to post more soon! If you're interested in seeing it, please do, and please comment on it to! The next one I'm gonna post is a Kiotr!

Disclaimer: I don't own nothin' but my shoes...

Chapter 3: **And** **I Don't Know What I'm Doing Anymore...**

_There is a light side, a dark side, and then there's my side, we kill people ten times faster and with less reason. _

xXx

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_SMACK!_

Bleary eyes cracked open and stared at the clock with disdain. It was six o' clock in the morning. As far as her mind was concerned, that time shouldn't even exist. However, she had a class to teach in two hours, and with her morning habits, if she wanted to be on time, she had to get up now. She whimpered at that thought.

She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, reveling in the popping sound her back made. Yawning, she disentangled herself from her sheets, stumbled out of bed, and into her bathroom. She didn't even glance at herself in the mirror as she stripped off her nightie and slipped into the hot shower.

It was thirty minutes before she got out. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. She fingered the natural curls already forming in her wet hair and scrunched up her face. With a sigh, she wondered why she couldn't have been born with straight hair. She grabbed her hair dryer and her hair straightener and set to work. It was another twenty minutes before she was happy with her straight hair.

Feeling more awake, she headed over towards her closet. It took her another twenty minutes to pick out a pair of blue jeans, a bright pink tank top covered by a jean jacket. She smiled at her appearance in the mirror before slipping on a pair of pink thong style shoes with a tiny heel. She ran back into her bathroom to apply a light layer of make up, which took another ten minutes. When she finished that she smiled at her reflection, quite pleased with herself and left the bathroom.

She walked out of her room and into the hall and froze.

The same painting she saw everyday when she woke up, Cezanne's Woman in a Green Hat, was gone.

Kitty stood there, gaping at the empty wall. She swung her head to either side, looking for anyone to explain this to her. Sending the wall a final confused glance, she swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and made her way down the hall. Her stomach turned as a bad feeling swept down her back. She twisted her perfectly French tip manicured fingers in her hands as her mind ventured with many different possibilities. Maybe Ororo was finally taking her advice and decided it was time to redecorate or maybe one of the students was playing a prank on her. Then again, it was looking a little dirty and faded, maybe Ororo sent it to be cleaned or restored, or whatever it was they did to dirty faded expensive paintings. Or maybe...

Maybe it wasn't the only thing missing.

Normally, right before she would prance down the stairs (Yes, she pranced!), she'd walk by an African mask from the Guro Tribe hanging on the wall. It was from one of Ororo's collections. Only, it wasn't there either.

The corners of her lips pulled downward as she stared at the second empty wall. Maybe that was taken for cleaning to?

Even Kitty knew when she was reaching. She dashed down stairs, stumbling a bit as she practically jumped over a few steps. Petey was always telling her she overreacted and she hoped to God he was right. However, each time her mind caught something that wasn't where it was suppose to be, she knew that she was reaching with the cleaning idea. It really didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened to a lot of their stuff. After all, things don't just go missing over night.

Unless you were robbed.

Ororo, Bobby, Piotr, and Hank were the only teachers in the kitchen when Kitty entered. She eyed them nervously as she headed to stand next to Piotr, who was busy cooking at the oven. Her mouth watered as a familiar smell hit her nose and she leaned around his bulky frame to see what he was making. Blueberry pancakes, her favorite.

She felt suddenly relaxed by the idea of Piotr cooking her breakfast. Casually, she asked the question that had been plaguing her since she exited her room, "Did we, like, get robbed last night or something?"

Piotr stopped cooking and glanced at her, as did everyone else. It probably wasn't the question that surprised them, but the ease at which she asked it. What could she say? Seeing Piotr making her favorite blueberry pancakes was a distracting image. It made the idea of being robbed seem not so big. She was a nineteen year old girl after all. Her hormones still ruled her thoughts.

Piotr sent her an incredulous smile before shaking his head in amusement and turning back to his cooking. It was Ororo's voice that answered, causing Kitty to break her view of the pancakes and turn around. Ororo was standing on the other side of the island, a cup of hot tea in her hands. She had never seen the woman with a cup of coffee, "Yes, we did." At Kitty's blank stare, Ororo couldn't help but sigh and continue, "Logan returned from Canada last night with a boy about Piotr's age. The boy, along with some of our things, were gone by sunrise."

Hank, who was sitting on a stool next to Ororo, looked up from his cup of coffee and newspaper. "The boy probably isn't use to such hospitality. He is a mutant child. If he's been running for a long time, he's probably grown weary of everyone, even other mutants." Hank's face grew grave, but he turned back to his newspaper, trying his hardest to keep judgment out of his voice, "There are some mutants out there who do not take lightly to other kinds of mutants."

Bobby looked up from his bowl of Captain Crunch cereal, his eyebrows knitted together. He started speaking before he finished swallowing his spoonful, "Whah-" He swallowed, and winced as the food he hadn't finished chewing went down sharply. He cleared his throat, "What are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna find the little bastard."

Kitty and Bobby both jumped and turned to the kitchen entrance as Logan growled. He was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl marred on his face. Piotr and Hank only glanced up at him before turning back to their activities. Ororo on the other hand, frowned in his direction and shook her head.

"Logan, it is a possibility that the boy was just scared. Go and find him if you must, but keep in mind he is still just a child. There is no need to scare the boy any more than he already is. Just let him know we will save a place for him if he wishes to return. If not, then that's fine."

Logan let out a deep growl and pushed himself off the door frame, "Yeah, I'll let him know." He turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, "As soon as I get our shit back."

Ororo let out a sigh and cast a desperate look in Kitty's direction. Kitty glanced back at Piotr and the pancakes and let out a longing sigh. Looks like she wasn't going to get her favorite breakfast by a hot Russian today. She turned and jogged out of the kitchen, after Logan.

xXx

Studio apartments were severely underestimated. Normally compared to a college dorm room, they were anything but. Yes, they had the bed in the same room as the kitchen and living room, and an incredibly tiny bathroom, but there was a vibe about these places. They were small, but cozy. There was a sense of security about them that made them incredibly comfortable to live in.

Okay, so that was a load of shit spouted out by a young desperate girl who lived in a moldy studio apartment in a not so great neighborhood. She was almost certain that the stained ceiling was going to collapse on her one of these days. She swore there were days where it looked as if the ceiling was bending as the occupants above her walked across their floor.

However, the ceiling was far from her mind as she entered her apartment and flew face first into the single twin bed. All she wanted to do was wrap herself in her mismatched sheets and doze off into a deep sleep. Of course, that would never happen.

Rogue let out a small groan and pushed herself off the bed. She came here for one thing and one thing only: her uniform. She didn't have time to lay around and doze off, not when she had bills to pay. It felt as if she hadn't slept in days, though she took a short nap every chance she got now.

Rogue shook her head, trying to snap herself out of staring into space, and headed over towards her closet. She quickly stripped off her blue jumper from a local garage that she worked at and slipped on the ugly blue polo shirt with yellow piping that was required for her second job over her white wife-beater. She was thankful they let her wear jeans.

Clearing her dry throat, Rogue made her way towards her refrigerator, looking for anything to drink. She swung the off white door open and frowned at the contents. All she had were apples, milk, and cheese. To be honest, she wasn't sure why there was a huge chunk of cheese just sitting in her fridge. Though it was the first thing she suspected that was causing that horrible smell. Lifting the cheese to her nose, she took a big whiff. It wasn't the cheese. She picked up the milk and frowned. Oh, boy did she hope it wasn't this. The milk wasn't suppose to go bad for another three weeks. Cautiously, Rogue twisted the cap off. She reeled back, her face twisted in disgust. She hastily screwed the lid back on and ran towards her window, pushed it up, and threw the bad milk out her third story window and to the dumpster below. It landed with a nice loud _thwap_.

She gagged. That was disgusting!

She looked up as her clock struck 6:50 am and groaned. She quickly snatched up her purse and keys and dashed out the door.

xXx

There weren't that many people, but it still made him a little uncomfortable. They all crowded together as they waited for the eight o' clock bus, yet somehow they managed to keep their personal space.

Gambit stood by the wooden bench, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He fingered his deck of cards, finding comfort in the smoothness of either side. He wasn't sure what it was about the cards, but they had a way of calming him down when he felt restless or antsy. He pulled his cards out of his pocket and began shuffling them.

He glanced up from behind his sunglasses as he heard the desecrated bus screech to a stop. Slipping his cards back in, he kept his hands stuffed in his pockets and was one of the first ones to board. Knowing full well that a choice few would be able to sit alone, he casually placed himself next to a young black man with bleached hair who was currently listening to some type of rap music. The boy was too preoccupied with whatever song he was listening to, to notice that Gambit slipped one of his cards out of his pocket. He took the the Joker and began to twirl flip it around each one of his finger.

The word _GAMBIT_ scrawled across the the Joker, kept appearing and disappearing in his vision.

xXx

Kitty tightened her hold on Logan's waist.

The moment the two had driven off the Xavier property, Kitty had come to a conclusion: Logan was crazy. All sanity had fled his mind and had been replaced by pure... pure... oh, she couldn't think of the word to finish her thought! Logan was driving way too fast for her to think straight. All she could do was curse Ororo for getting her to agree to this with just a look, Piotr for not coming to her rescue and volunteering, Bobby for being so scared of Logan, Dr. McCoy for not warning her of the possibility of Logan losing his sanity, and Logan for driving so GOD DAMN FAST!

The bike bounced over a bump and Kitty squealed in terror. If possible, her hold tightened on Logan's waist and she buried her head between his shoulder blades, hoping to God he'd get the message and slow down just a little. The only response she got was an annoyed growl that vibrated through his chest and into his back, against her cheek. Deciding she'd rather not see her own incoming death, she squeezed her eyes closed and took in a deep breath, fearing that it would be her last.

The logical part of her mind tried to remind her that even if anything did happen, the chances of her dying were slim. All she needed to do was phase through everything and she'd be just fine. However, the logical part of her mind was taking a back seat and letting the terrified of dying part take over.

Oh, she could handle the Blackbird and any of the other jets just fine. After the incident at Alcatraz, Ororo made sure that they all knew how to fly them. Hell, being as excelled as she was in computers, it took her no time in learning how. However, a motorcycle... it was completely different and she didn't care what anyone said!

Logan took a sudden sharp right turn.

Kitty screamed over the screech of tires.

xXx

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five._ Rogue kept her eyes glued to her feet. _Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Ten people. _She sighed and rolled her head up the sky. She took in a slow deep breath. The bench was hard and uncomfortable. She almost considered standing up and letting someone else have the seat. Almost. Actually, she would have if it wasn't for the fact that the old lady who was the most likely candidate to take her seat was casting strange looks in her direction. Rogue frowned and pulled at her blue work shirt a little.

It felt weird to be able to wear a short sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. After having spent a little over two years without physical contact and keeping her skin completely covered, it was a strange feeling to not have to wear a pair of gloves anymore. Even after three months.

Rogue looked up as the bus, which was late, pulled up and everyone got in line to board. Rogue could feel the old woman behind her, glaring at her back. Rogue suddenly stumbled to the side as the old woman pushed past her and boarded the bus. She was now the last one on.

Rogue frowned and pushed a white strand of hair behind her ear. She scanned the bus, looking for anyplace to sit. There was a spot open by the old lady, but Rogue immediately crossed that off her list of options. There was a middle aged man with a giant beer belly and a grease stain on what should have been white tank top, eating a McDonald's burger. There was also a woman with pink, blue, and purple hair, her face covered with thick layers of make up, and she was dressed head to toe in black and hot pink fishnets. Then there was another woman with short brown hair towards the back wearing a pair of sunglasses. She sat up straight, her hands folded gently in her lap, and her face never left the front of the bus.

Rogue quickly took that seat. Not that she had anything against old ladies, fat men, or scary girls, but this woman looked the least threatening. Then again, looks can be deceiving. Rogue knew that better than anyone.

_Smack_.

Rogue's eyes snapped to the water bottle on the floor by her feet. She leaned down and picked up the Aquafina. She handed it back the lady, "Here."

The woman smiled and gently took the water, her hand brushing against Rogue's. Rogue's eyebrows bunched together when she noticed something was off with the woman's movements and how she never actually looked at the bottle, "Thank you, sweetie." She gently placed the bottle in her beige bag, not ever looking at it, "I've always hated these buses."

Rogue smiled at the woman, "Ah have too."

The woman extended a hand in Rogue's general direction, "My name is Irene."

Rogue gently took her hand, it felt so fragile. As she shook her hand, Rogue noticed a cane leaning up against the wall of the bus. She was blind. "Marie."

Irene gave her a bright smile, "Oh, I've always loved that name."

"Really?" Rogue made a face, "Ah've always hated it."

Irene laughed. It was light and floated gently around the bus. It brought a smile to Rogue's face. A genuine smile, "I suppose most people don't really like their names. I know when I was a little girl, I hated the name Irene. I always wanted to have two first names. Like Rae Anne, or Anna Rose." Irene laid a gentle hand on Rogue's knee, startling the younger girl, "Of course, as you get older, you realize your name's not so bad." She patted her knee and placed her hand back in her own lap. There was a moment of silence, as if Irene was debating on whether or not she should say the next thing, "I was wondering if I could ask you a favor, my dear."

A sudden rush of sympathy filled Rogue. How could she deny a simple favor to this nice blind woman? Of course, it still depended on what the favor was. "Uh... Sure. What can Ah do for ya?"

The woman scrunched up her face and grabbed the top of her cane. "Well, I need to get to a place called Earnie's Antiquities, but I've never been on that side of town. I'm so afraid I'll get lost."

Rogue smiled, "Ah know where that's at. Ah actually work right next to it, Ah'd be happy t' show ya 'round."

Irene smiled again and reached over to give Rogue's hand a squeeze. Rogue stiffened. Irene's hand was somewhat cold. "Thank you, sweetie."

xXx

He watched as the man in the trench coat practically flew out of his seat and out the bus door. He grabbed his ipod and slowly exited the bus. He just stood there, his hands buried in his pockets as he watched the stranger's trench coat flutter out behind him as he quickly, but casually walked away from the bus.

The music on his ipod skipped to the next track. The moment the new song started, the man made a decision and started off in the direction the mysterious man in the trench coat disappeared to.

xXx

Kitty shakily threw herself off the bike. She turned a glare at Logan as he calmly parked it and turned to send her a glare of his own. Her stomach was still reeling and her limbs felt strangely wobbly. She managed a snort and crossed her arms across her chest, hoping to hide just how much the ride actually shook her, "Oh, don't give me that look! You were driving, like, 200 miles an hour!"

Logan growled and swung himself off his bike. Kitty knew it was impossible to hide her fear from him. He could smell it, as creepy as that was, and he had no patience for it, "I was only goin' 100, and I woulda been goin' faster too, if you hadn't decided you were gonna throw up!"

Kitty glared at him before dramatically turning her nose up in the air. What could she say? She loved drama.

Logan didn't feel the same however and just rolled his eyes, "Well?"

Kitty rolled her eyes back to him, being sure to keep her nose pointed high in the air. She responded as detachedly as she possibly could, "Well what?"

Logan closed his eyes and took in a slow, deep, calming breath. Kitty had always had a way of grating on his nerves. She was just so childish at times, "Thought ya said you were gonna puke."

Kitty stared at him a moment before glaring up at the sky, "It's just a figure of speech! Jeez!" She wrapped her arms around her stomach, "If I was going to puke every time I said I was going to, I'd be as thin as a stick!"

Logan growled before stepping away from his motorcycle, "I don't want to waste any time here, okay, Half-pint."

Kitty just glared at him, ignored the adored nickname, and plopped down on the nearby bench. It was a silent refusal to get back on that god forsaken machine. Logan's irritation suddenly disappeared and he took a few whiffs of air. He sent the tiny brunette a strange glance before making his way towards her, sniffing as he did so. Kitty watched him with suspicious brown eyes until he stopped, his face mere inches in front of hers.

She blinked, her cheeks tinging pink. Suddenly she felt very awkward. He did realize she was-at the very least-half his age right? Besides, she was currently pursuing the hot Russian, not the hairy Canadian, "Uh... Mr. Logan," she leaned back, trying to put more space between them, "What exactly are you _doing_?"

He stood up straight and sniffed the air once more, "Gambit was here," He started walking towards his bike again, "And so was Rogue." He sniffed again, "Rogue left here about an hour before he did."

Kitty's eyebrows shot up, all thought of awkwardness gone. The thought never crossed her mind to be embaressed at the obvious misreading on her part, "Rogue? Are you sure?" Logan nodded, "'Cause she should be at work right now."

Logan impatiently waved his hand at Kitty, motioning for her to hop on, "Gimme directions."

Kitty hesitated.

xXx

He walked through the door, pulling his head phones out of his ears as the bell rang. He pushed through the small crowd and smiled as he saw the familiar face. He walked up to the counter and sat on one of the sticky blue stools. He wrapped his headphones around his ipod and stuck it in one of the many pockets of his shorts. He waited to speak until the woman on the other side had her back to him.

"Long time no see."

Rogue jumped and spun around, her green eyes wide. A large smile suddenly spread across her face. "Ah don't believe it!" Rogue let out a light laugh and leaned over the counter to pull the man into an awkward hug. The counter dug into her lower stomach, but she didn't care. She gently pulled away and moved to get him a cup of Mountain Dew, "Ya sure know how t' surprise a gal." She flashed him a huge smile, which he eagerly returned, "So, whatchya doin' here? Last Ah heard, ya left the Institute because o' some fight with 'Ro." Rogue immediately realized her mistake the moment the words were said.

Before she could apologize, he cleared his throat. He fidgeted awkwardly in his seat, but never lost eye contact with her, "Yeah, Auntie O and I had some differences after you left." At the look of alarm on her face, he hastily added, "Nothin' concerning you though, don't worry about that." She looked relieved for a moment before nodding, "Long story short, I just couldn't see myself as a full fledged member of the team, so I left. Auntie O wasn't happy, but I sure as hell am."

He took a gulp from his Mountain Dew. Rogue couldn't help the downward pull of her lips, "So what 'xactly are ya doin', Evan?"

Evan shook his head before gulping down some more of his soda. "Doesn't matter." His voice suddenly became more serious as his black eyes connected with her green ones, "I actually came up here for a different reason." Rogue rose a curious eyebrow, "I was wonder-"

"Marie!"

Rogue jumped and spun around. Her face suddenly felt tight and her shoulders suddenly felt heavy. Standing behind her was her boss, Tim. Tim was a big bald white guy. Not just tall, but big all around. He stood around six feet and looked as if he weight somewhere in the 300s. And none of that was muscle. Hell, she had more muscle then him and the most she was ever able to bench was 100 lbs, and that was when she was still having Danger Room training. Though she knew she could take Tim in a fight easily, she also knew that there was no way she'd get paid if she did.

Rogue stretched a thin forced smile across her face, "Tim?! Somethin' wrong?"

Tim's face suddenly turned bright red. Rogue had always found it kind of amusing how his neck and the rest of his body stayed incredibly pale. She had learned the hard way a while ago that Tim's face color will change with his moods. He was a lifesize moodring. "What's wrong, Ms. D'Acanto, is the fact that you're just standing here socializing with your boyfriend!" Rogue's eyebrows shot up and she cast a glance to Evan who looked like he was about to burst out laughing, "If you want to keep this job, Ms. D'Acanto, I suggest you start doing it!"

Rogue cleared her throat and nodded submissively. She waited until Tim disappeared into the back before she turned back around to Evan, "Shut yer mouth, Skater boy." Evan just shook his head and took another drink, "So what were ya wonderin'?"

He looked up in slight surprised. It was almost as if he had changed his mind during the interruption. He shook his head, "Never mind, don't worry about it." Appareantly he had. "I really shouldn't be asking you anyway." Rogue's eyebrows scrunched together and a scowl hit her lips. She leaned forward, in what Evan was sure was going to be a lecture about how he could talk to her about anything. Wanting to avoid another lecture today, Evan cut in before she could, "You wanna get together later? Talk about our time with the X-Men and how evil we are for leaving them behind?"

"Ah can't." Rogue's annoyance was quickly forgotten. She let out a sigh and shook her head, "Ah'm working 'till eleven thirty tonight and I gotta be at work tomorrow mornin at five. Ah got three jobs, don't get a lot of socializin' in, ya know?"

Evan frowned at that, but nodded in understanding. "Alright." He glanced over his shoulder and out the glass door, "Well, I really should be headin' out. I got some shit I need to take care of." He pushed himself off his stool, "I'll catch ya later, Rogue. Thanks for the Mountain Dew."

Rogue frowned but gave him a small wave, "Later, Ev."

xXx

Evan Daniels.

He hadn't been called that since the day he left the X-Men. It was weird hearing someone call him that. For the last three months, he'd only ever been known as Spyke. As far as he was concerned, that was his true name. Not Evan Daniels. Evan Daniels was a star High School basketball player whose biggest concern was being fit enough to beat all the other members of his team in one on one. Spyke, on the other hand, was much more real in his opinion. After the Phoenix incident, a lot changed. It even changed the students and the X-Men who were in the fight at Alcatraz drastically.

He remembered the first time he had seen her. He hadn't fallen in love with her, and knew he never would. But there was something about her.

Besides the fact that she hated his aunt with such a ferocity it scared him at first.

His aunt had been surprised by the change in her appearance. Before she had been a very beautiful girl, but now... now her face had a more hard look to it. She still stood with the same confidence as before, but now she was no where near as beautiful, and the tattoo on her face stood out all the more.

Her name was Callisto. Her mutation was an enhancement in senses, strength, agility, and even speed. She led what was left of the Morlocks, a group of mutants that lived in the sewers. Most of them looked different than normal humans, but they all wore a tattoo marking them as a mutant.

Spyke had gotten his three months ago.

His eyes scanned the area before landing on their target. He started after him again.

In those three months of living in the sewers a lot had happened. He became one of the most respected of the Morlocks and was right under Callisto in the chain of command. And that was the only good thing that had happened. Since the Phoenix, the Morlock's numbers had diminished greatly. Partly because of the cure they were hit with, and partly because of the Phoenix herself. Because of this they were still trying to get back on their feet and were in no way prepared for what happened next.

The man stopped walking and stared at his reflection in a store window for a moment. He hung his head, as if in shame, and walked towards the nearby park.

They had dubbed it the Morlock Massacre.

The man sat down on a bench and stared at the coffee he had bought from the diner.

Very few survived. Callisto was not one of them, which left him in charge of the last few.

The man suddenly stood up and chucked his coffee at a nearby tree. It hit the tree with a thwack and splattered against the ground.

So what was he suppose to do when that man sat by him on the bus? Let the bastard leave? It was like he was taunting him. He wasn't going to let anyone get away with what had happened to his family. Especially the man who led them all there.

Spyke walked up behind the man and just stood there silently. The man didn't turn around, but sighed in defeat and ran a calloused hand through his tossled hair.

"I didn't know..."

Spyke had to suppress a growl. He wanted nothing more than to tear this bastard apart, just like Callisto had been. He wanted to grab him by the hair, yank his head back, and stick every orifice in his head with one of his spikes. Slowly. He wanted more than anything to make this man suffer.

The man finally turned around, his eyes hidden behind thick sunglasses. But Spyke knew. He knew the demonic glow behind the lenses. He knew he was staring the devil in the face, and that he was going to be tricked into letting him go if he wasn't careful.

The man didn't even hang his head. He just stared at Spyke straight in the eye. Though his eyes were hidden, Spyke could feel them burning a whole into him. Searching. Asking. Pleading. Begging.

The man wanted death.

He wanted to be tortured.

To be killed.

And that scared Spyke more than the Massacre.

But even that wouldn't make Spyke forgive him. It would bring any mercy on his part. No. This man may be telling the truth. He really didn't know what he was getting into, but it didn't change anything. This man may feel guilty and ashamed, but it didn't matter. No amount of torture would ever redeem him. He would never make atonement. Spyke made a decision. It was the worst punishment for this man. The worst form of torture for a man of this soul.

He walked away.

The man would drive himself crazy with shame, of never being physically hurt for vengeance.

And he knew that this was the only way he could ever get true revenge.

xXx

AN: What ya think?! My story's finally coming around! And in the next chapter, Rogue and Gambit finally meet! Woo! And Gambit makes a confession – it had nothing to do with the Morlocks! And where's Scott at? What about Carol?! Why is Moira Taggert calling the Institute?! And no, Xavier is not taking over the coma patient's body. Is Xavier even gonna be in this?!

So many questions!

And I actually know the answers this time! Woot!

R&R!


	5. So, I Hate To Ask

AN: I hate it when you reread a chapter you posted and find soo many errors! It's annoying! They weren't anything big. Actually, two of them were just that the n't that I added at the end of a word weren't there, but in the context of the sentence, I think you can tell it was accidentally omitted. BTW, I suck at Irish accents... sorry... any tips?!

Also, after a few different reviews/review replies, I've come to the conclusion that I need to set something straight: THIS IS NOT A SCOGUE! This is a ROMY _and_ a JOTT (even though I HATE Jean!). The only reason this fic is under Cyclops' and Rogue's names is because they are my two main characters. They are not, in no way shape or form, going to be paired together. Sorry if that was not clear, what with the ROMY in the summary and everything...

Sorry I'm a little pissy right now.. what with the losing my god damn car in a crash because a group of teenagers were too eager to get to prom and weren't watching the god damn red light... I miss my car...

Chapter 4: ** So, I Hate To Ask...**

_The truth will set you free... but a good lie can always break you out. _

xXx

It was warm.

The sun danced above his head, the light shined down on him. It was by every means a beautiful day. His eyes followed children as they ran ahead of their parents, chased their dog, and danced down the sidewalk, taking care not to step on the nearby flowers. To anyone else it was the perfect day. It was the day where couples walked hand in hand, where children played with their dogs, where cats would just lounge about and watch the birds as they sang.

As far as he was concerned, it may as well have been hailing. Just on him. A little cloud should be hovering a few feet above his head. Lightning should be striking out and hitting him between the shoulder blades, doing what should have happened.

That man should have killed him.

Gambit sighed and leaned forward, burying his head between his hands. He was sitting on a wooden bench, his trench coat still on, absorbing the summer heat and making his arms and back sweat. But he didn't care. It was the least he deserved. Hell, it wasn't even the _least_. Getting gutted, tortured, each finger taken off one by one, followed by every single limb wasn't even the least he deserved.

And that man just walked away.

He knew why. He wanted to be hurt. He wanted that man he recognized from the sewers to physically hurt him in some way that would ultimately result in his death. The fact that he wanted it, that he came close to begging for it, was enough means for the man to walk away. Not in forgiveness, no, Gambit knew he would never be forgiven. Not for that. But in vengeance. By not giving Gambit what he wanted, what he knew he deserved, he got his revenge. And Gambit respected that. He hated it, but he understood and respected it.

So when he heard the sound of a motorcycle a few yards behind him, he didn't move. He may not have wronged these people the same way he had wronged the Morlocks, but didn't they deserved their revenge as well?

Gambit glanced over his shoulder, his eyes instantly recognizing Logan, who was followed quickly by a shaking brunette. Even from where he was, Gambit could sense the anger radiating off Logan. It was nothing compared to what he had felt from the Morlock though. There was no despair, no need for the sacred justice that he deserved.

The Morlocks deserved vengeance more than Logan did.

Suddenly angry, Gambit snapped to his feet and glared at the oncoming man. Though it was a hard thing for him to do, he stretched out a grin, saluted the two, and ran.

xXx

She didn't smoke. Never would. But she absolutely loved the smell. She blamed Logan for that. Every time she smelt a cigar, his psyche would push to the forefront, as if eager to put one of those things to his lips again. At one point the psyche had actually _begged_ her for one. He even would have settled for one of those cigarettes he hated so much.

That was why she walked into the alley behind the diner during her break. No, it wasn't her break already, but they were slow enough at the moment she could take one if she wanted to.

The psyches weren't in her head any longer, but she still couldn't help but think of Logan whenever she came out here and smelled the smoke from her coworkers' cigarettes. It was comforting in a way. She hadn't seen him since the day she went to get the cure. He hadn't been there when she got back or three days later when she decided to leave the Institute.

Rogue leaned back against the cold brick wall. She stood in the shade, ignoring her fellow coworkers gossip about customers. She inhaled deeply, basking in the smell of cigarettes. Whenever her coworkers asked about it, she always told them she quit, but missed the smell. It was halfway true.

For the next few minutes, Rogue didn't notice anything. She didn't budge as her coworkers finished their cigarettes and went inside, none saying a word to her. She didn't analyze her life, didn't reminisce, didn't think. She just enjoyed the eerie silence that she had always longed for in her mind. It was a little disturbing at times. She had gotten so use to hearing everyone's opinions about her life, that there were times she actually took it. Since the voices disappeared, she heard no more opinions, no more pressure. She could choose for her and her alone. It was wonderful.

Rogue closed her eyes and smiled as the wind gently swept passed her.

Suddenly a hand clamped down over her mouth, muffling a surprised squeal.

Wide green eyes opened wide and met a pair of sunglasses. The man held a finger to his lips, silently asking her to keep quiet. Rogue almost screamed just to spite him. She had kidnapping and hostage issues, what could she say.

But the moment the desire to scream hit her, it disappeared. The tense muscles in her back suddenly felt relaxed. And for the first time, Rogue noticed just how close the man's face was to her own. Her cheeks flared red, but not from embarrassment. She felt more drunk then anything. Her legs felt like jelly and her heart beat quickly and powerfully in her chest. She was sure he could hear it, or even feel it with how close he was standing. The blood in her veins burned through her body. She felt a strange numbing effect where fear, or in her case anger, should have been.

It wasn't until he broke eye contact with her that Rogue realized they had moved. No longer was she in the alley behind the diner, but now she was in the kitchen at the back of the diner. Alone.

Confused, Rogue's quickly spun around, trying to pinpoint exactly where the mysterious man had gone. Her eyebrows knitted together as all she met were dirty dishes and a few employees whose backs were to her. She considered asking them if they knew where the man had gone, but decided against it. They thought she was crazy enough already.

_Bang!_

Rogue jumped and snapped towards the door. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped.

"Logan?!"

Logan stood in the doorway, his hands in tight fists down at his sides, ready to pop out his claws when need be. Behind him stood a breathless Kitty bent over with her hands on her knees. Kitty managed a weak smile at her.

"Hey," Gasp, "Rogue!"

Rogue's eyebrows shot up, "Hey, Kit." Rogue's attention went back to Logan who just ignored her and sniffed the air. He started wandering around the kitchen, still sniffing. It wasn't until Logan passed a baffled coworker that Rogue suddenly realized she wasn't the only one watching him. "Um... not that it ain't nice t' see y'again, but what are ya doin'?"

The answer didn't come from who she was expecting. Instead it was Kitty who answered, walking up next to her old roommate. "We're chasing down another... umm..." Kitty eyed the other employees warily, "_guy_..." She gave Rogue a meaningful look, to which she just nodded in understanding, "that stole some things from the Institute last night. Have you seen anyone?" She paused, before quickly adding, "Wearing an ugly brown trench coat?"

Rogue turned to Logan who had stopped sniffing and was staring straight at her. Her mind instantly went to the man in the sunglasses and the strange feeling she got when he looked into her eyes. He must have been a mutant and had done something to her.

She shook her head, "There was someone..." She never broke eye contact with Logan, "But I don't remember much. I was in the alley, then I was here and he was gone."

Logan nodded before heading back out the back door. Kitty's eyes grew wide and she glanced at Rogue before quickly heading after him and waving at Rogue, "Bye, Rogue! Call me later!"

"Bye, Kit..." A scowl quickly marred Rogue's face, "Thanks for telling me you were BACK, _LOGAN!"_

"_MARIE!"_

Rogue turned around and saw a red faced Tim standing behind her. He was actually huffing, and Rogue almost swore she saw steam leave his nose each time. However angry he was, was nothing compared to how pissed off she was. The second Tim opened his mouth, Rogue cut him off, "Eh, stuff it, ya troll!" Tim stopped short in surprise, but before he had time to respond Rogue had stripped off the work shirt and thrown it at his face, "Ah got mah own problems t' deal with!"

With that Rogue marched out into the alley and glanced in both directions. Before she could even begin choosing a direction though, she heard a noise behind her and did a jump spin around.

The man was leaning against the closed door, his sunglasses resting lazily on his nose, his hands stuffed in his brown trench coat. Which, in Rogue's opinion, was far from ugly, then again, Kitty had always told her she was fashion retarded. Rogue placed her hands on her hips as she sized the man up. She watched, as he casually pulled out a cigarette and gently tapped the tip of it with his finger. The cigarette lit up.

Rogue narrowed her eyes, "What are ya doin'?!"

xXx

It was just a typical day in the Institute. Well... as typical as it can get after being robbed. However, Bobby thought the students were handling it pretty well. They weren't screaming or crying or even demanding answers. No... they decided to scour the School grounds.

Why?

Bobby honestly had no idea. He decided it would be a bad thing to question. Whatever reason had led them to this, at least it kept them busy.

That was his train of thought until one of the younger students came running into Ororo Munroe's office. Well, it wasn't the fact that the girl ran into the room, that in itself wouldn't have made him blink, it was more of the fact that she was covered in mud. Not that dry, caked, easily vacuumed up, mud, but the wet, slushy, sticky, smelly, hard to get out of the off white carpet kind. It completely covered her little pink dress as the 7 year old looked up at him with those innocent purple eyes. She grinned.

Bobby blinked twice.

She giggled before twirling around, splattering mud in a perfect circle around her. Unfortunately, Bobby was in said circle. He involuntarily flinched when it splattered his face. He kept his eyes closed for a second before slowly opening them. He stared at her again, slowly raising one of his eyebrows.

"Erica..."

Erica just kept smiling at him, "Mr. Drake, can I have some candy?"

Bobby blinked again.

If there was one thing that was always constant at the Institute, it was its randomness. Life was funny, huh?

He shook his head, eying the little girl strangely, "Uh... No... but you know what you could do?" The little girl shook her head, her naturally blond pigtails flew around, splattering more mud on her and his faces. He took in a slow breath, "Go get cleaned up before Miss Munroe sees you getting her office dirty."

"Too late."

They both jumped and turned to the door. Ororo Munroe stood at the threshold, her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the frame. She gently shook her head and waved at the little girl, "Erica, can I trust you to go get clean up like a big girl, or do I have to send Mr. Drake with you?" The girl just smiled before running out the door. Ororo shouted over her shoulder, "Try not to get it on the carpet!" Suddenly the little girl's feet were no longer on the floor as she ran through the air.

Ororo made a face as she looked around the room, "Sometimes, I swear that child just does things to make it harder for us." Before Bobby could respond the phone let out a sharp ring. Calmly, Ororo picked up the receiver and placed it to her ear, "Xavier's School For The Gifted, Ororo Munroe speaking."

"Storm," The voice on the other end sounded urgent, "I need t' speak t' Dr. McCoy," The thick Irish accent proved to be only one person, "N' ya n' the rest o' the X-Men may want t' hear this too."

xXx

Logan growled as he quickly ran down the rest of the alley, Kitty quickly following after him. Behind him, he could Rogue screaming angrily. He knew she was pissed off, but in the meantime she'd have to wait. Right now he had a thief to catch and wasn't all too keen with it.

Earlier, when he had reached the door that led to the back of the diner, he could smell the boy. But he could also smell the boy going down the rest of the alley. He had been unsure which way the boy had went, but he had smelled Rogue too. That was the reason he had went in. But the second he realized it was a dead end and the boy had probably only pushed Rogue inside, he quickly turned around and continued following the trail.

But then why did his trail stop?!

xXx

"Would ya believe dis _homme_ if he said he was jus' takin' a stroll?"

Rolling her eyes, Rogue let out a huff before crossing her arms, "Ya know, if yer plannin' on runnin' from Logan ya should git outta here. He's gonna smell ya and comin' runnin' back this direction."

The mysterious man let a grin spread across his face as he cocked his head to the side. Rogue could feel his eyes tracing her figure from behind his sunglasses. It pissed her off. "Why, if dis _homme _didn't know better, he'd say ya be helpin' 'im. Would he be pushin' his luck if he asked why?"

"Yes."

He laughed. The man had the gall to laugh at her! The rat bastard...

Rogue lifted her chin, "So, what d'ya steal to piss Logan off?"

The man shrugged, amusement still fresh on his features, "Just a few t'ings here and dere." Before she could ask her next question, he answered it for her, "'Ready hocked 'em."

"Why ya here?"

He frowned and pushed himself off the wall. He strutted towards her. Rogue backed away until her back hit the brick wall behind her and his hands found themselves on either side of her head, caging her in. He leaned forward so that his breath was hot against her cheek.

"Don't tell me ya don't want dis handsome gentleman 'round, _cherie_."

Rogue swallowed nervously before regaining her wits. Her hands snapped up against his chest trying to quickly push him away. Unfortunately, he was a lot stronger than her and didn't even budge. He grinned down at her from behind his sunglasses. Rogue stared right back up at him before she did something that surprised even her.

Living two years with a man who could kill you by just taking off his sunglasses really should have taught Rogue a lesson. Yet, she still reached up and quickly slipped his sunglasses off, half expecting to get blown through the wall.

What she saw was much more startling.

Wide, angry, red on black eyes glared down at her. So enraptured was she by them, she didn't see the hard frown on his lips or the sudden anger inside them. All she noticed was how they started glowing brighter as he grew angrier, and how they never once broke eye contact with her.

That is, until he was yanked off her.

He let out a small grunt of surprise as Logan pinned him against the opposite wall, two of his claws on either side of his neck. Rogue barely registered Kitty standing next to her as she pushed herself off the wall and watched as Logan threatened the young man.

For some reason, Rogue suddenly felt very sympathetic for the man. That didn't keep her from being surprised at herself as she glared at Logan's back, "Leave 'im alone, Logan!"

Logan looked at her over his shoulder in surprise before turning his attention back to Gambit. "The thief stole from us!"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes, "Ah don't care!" Logan looked back at her in surprise again, "Jus' let 'im go. He ain't hurtin' nobody!"

xXx

Storm, Iceman, Colossus, Jubilee, Angel, and Nightcrawler sat at the circular table in the War Room. Beast was the only one not sitting down. Instead he was at the front of the room, pacing back and forth in front of a large screen.

Moira McTaggert watched through the screen, her eyes following him as he digested the news. Her brown eyes went to the group sitting around the table. She scanned each reaction before she took in a deep breath.

"I'm not sure exactly what can be done." Her eyes went down to her hands and her lips pursed tightly together.

Jubilee looked up first. Her voice was unsure and cautious. An abnormality when concerning the young Californian, "Are you sure?" Her brows scrunched together, "'Cause if it is him, then we gotta do something." Her voice grew louder with each word she spoke, "I mean, c'mon! What else are we going to do?!"

Storm rose her hand, effectively silencing the younger girl, "Jubilee, I'm afraid it's not as simple as that." Her blue eyes scanned the people in the room before finally landing on Beast. The two stared at each other for a few moments before she turned her eyes to Moira and continued, "All that Xavier said was 'I don't have a lot of time, we're in trouble, send the X-Men.' He did not even give an indication as to where he was. We have no way of finding him."

Jubilee piped in, "Cerebro." All eyes turned to her again, "Just use Cerebro. That's what it does, right? Finds mutants?"

Storm sighed, but it was Bobby who answered her, "Jubes, for it to work we need a psychic or a telepath." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "And we don't have either. So Cerebro's pretty useless to us at the moment."

"Actually," They all looked up at Moira. She gave them a thin smile, "I might be able to help you with that."

xXx

_Scott! _

He grunted and bowed his head before quickly looking back up at the road. His gloved hands gripped the motorcycle tightly as he forced himself to concentrate.

_Help me!_

Scott grunted again, his bike swerving slightly as he lost some control. Quickly regaining his balance, Scott forced down the lump in his throat and kept his eyes on the road. He shivered slightly as the cold night wind burned against his face. He was almost to his destination.

He still wasn't sure why he felt compelled to come here. But as he passed the _Welcome to Nebraska!_ sign, he knew he only had a few hours left until he reached his destination.

xXx

AN:

Alright, I realize Gambit didn't make a confession and I don't have a Carol scene in here... but that's 'cause I changed my mind. I rewrote this chapter a few times, but I'm pretty happy with this version.

Next Chapter:

Why is Scott going to Nebraska of all places? Who is Moira sending over? Will they find the Professor? What's gonna happen to Gambit? And, a question I'm sure a few are wondering, why have I not mentioned Gambit by his real name the entire story?! I've been irritating myself with that one... but I do have a reason for it!


	6. But I Could Use Some Help

AN: I had fun with this chapter! Soooo much fun::squeals happily::

In this chapter, I had a choice... There are two characters I wanted to bring in, and both would've work perfectly in this situation, but I could only choose one. However, I had an alternate idea for each, depending on who came in here, since I need one here. This is one of the situations that took me so long to update. But I finally figured it out, and here it is!

Anywho, if y'all wanna know how I feel about Scott and Jean look at my profile, I put up a rant recently.

Onto the fic!

Chapter 5: **But I Could Use Some Help...**

_A word to the wise ain't necessary, it's the stupid ones who need the advice._ - _Bill Cosby_

xXx

_Nebraska._

The heat was almost unbearable. The temperature had to be at least in the high 90s, maybe even in the 100s. Either way, it was way too hot for him to wear his jacket, so he conveniently left it in the dingy motel room. At the moment though, Scott found himself regretting that. He may have been sweating enough to leave stains down the front and the back of his shirt, but the jacket had been an old one, and he had a feeling it had something to do with the place he was standing in front of now. That and it had become like a safety blanket to him, as childish as it sounded.

_SCOTT!_

Scott forced himself to swallow the nervous lump in his throat. A light breeze swept against him, cooling skin, and giving him a split second of courage that he desperately needed. He took in a shaky deep breath and started forward. He never took his eyes off the door as he passed the sign.

It read _Omaha Orphanage_.

Orphanage.

Children running across the dirt covered yard flashed in his mind's eye, but only for a split second. It wasn't near enough, and Scott found himself yearning for more.

_HURRY!_

Slowly, he let out a breath he had been holding and knocked his mysteriously scarred knuckles against the door. It was softer than a wooden door should have been, showing how run down this place was. He waited a few moments, silently wondering if maybe he should just knock the door down. Did no one live in this place anymore? Had it actually been abandoned? Part of him hoped so, but the other part desperately wanted someone to be here, someone who knew what he needed. His chest grew tight and he swore his heart actually skipped a beat as the door slowly opened with a loud creak. The hinges must have been rusted as well.

A pair of dark brown eyes looked up at him. The little Asian kid behind the door stared at him for a moment, not saying a word. The boy wasn't even eight years old. All Scott could do was stare back.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of the staring contest, the door opened a little wider and out popped the head of a woman only a few years older than himself. Her black skin looked as if it was stretched tightly over her bones, her eyes looked sunken in, and her cheek bones protruded sharply. She ushered the kid inside behind her before turning to stare at him for a moment.

"Can I help you?"

Her voice sounded weary and tired, but strong. As if she was expecting him to try and force his way in. The look in her sunken in eyes was enough to make him reconsider what he was here for. She obviously didn't want company, didn't want visitors, and sure as hell didn't trust him. Could he honestly blame her? Scott couldn't help but entertain the notion of turning around and leaving, of trying to find his way home.

_PLEASE!_

"Yeah." It came out stronger, more forceful than he intended, and the woman on the other side of the threshold stiffened. Her eyes took on a more guarded look as she eyed him suspiciously. His throat suddenly felt dry and he had no choice but to clear it. A deep, uncomfortable, guttural sound was the result. It only served to make the woman stiffen even more if that was possible, "Yeah." He tried again, "My name's Scott. I think I use to uh... I think I use to live here."

The woman started in surprise and carelessly let go of the door so that it swung open just a little bit wider revealing the Asian kid hiding behind her with some other children.

"Scott Summers?"

xXx

Chaos reigned.

The mansion was abuzz with the news. How it spread, Piotr would never know. All he knew was that he was having a hell of a time trying to calm down the students in his art class. No one was painting or drawing or working on their projects, instead they were talking loudly about the phone call that had ended some few hours ago. Apparently, one of the kids had overheard it somehow. It really should have been expected considering all the students who lived here. More than one was bound to have some type of ability to aide them in their eavesdropping endeavors.

A spray of paint suddenly sailed from the hands of one of the students when another pushed her in disbelief of whatever she had said. It hit the wall above Piotr's head in a perfect arch. Piotr had given up trying to calm them down sometime ago and had resigned to just sit behind his desk with his arms crossed. However, this simple action was enough for each student in the room to suddenly turn their attention towards him and grow silent. No one had ever seen Piotr Rasputin angry before, at least none of the students had. This was the closest they had ever seen the friendly giant come to anger.

One by one each of the students slowly made their way to their seats. Guilt ridden, and a little scared of the look on their teacher's face, each student stayed silent with their hands in their laps or on the desks. Piotr just sat there, his eyes flittering over each and every one of them. After what felt like hours to the students, Piotr pushed himself onto his feet and moved to stand in front of the class. He then turned his blue eyes onto one particular student. Without saying a word, the girl stood up and quickly got some soap and water before rushing to the blue paint on the wall behind him.

"For deh rest of deh class. We will sit here." He then added in a very stern voice, very uncommon for him, "_Quietly_."

The moment the word left his lips, the door to the classroom opened and Bobby poked his head in. "Hey," Piotr turned to him, "Logan's back." His eyes glanced at the silent students in surprise, "I thought this was an art class?"

Piotr grunted in light annoyance, causing Bobby's eyebrows to jump up, "It was." He turned his eyes towards one of the other students, "You are in charge." He then let his eyes look over every one of the students, "Stay quiet."

Without another word to the students he turned and followed a shocked Bobby out into the hall. Somewhat spooked eyes turned to the taller, more muscle-y of the two. "Wow," Bobby cleared his throat, "They must have been planning world domination or something."

Piotr glanced down at the American before letting out a tired sigh, "Dey were being... disorderly, I believe is deh word." Bobby nodded knowingly, "Did Logan catch deh thief?"

The usual calm, relaxed appearance that Bobby portrayed seemed to be rudely shoved aside for the nervous and tense Bobby Drake that Piotr hadn't seen since before the Alkali incident. Piotr watched as an almost shaky hand ran through his hair. He cleared his throat again, only this time it sounded more croaky than before, "Yeah..." He took in a deep breath, "He also brought someone else back with him."

Confusion was not a foreign feeling to the Russian. Especially after moving into the Institute from his quiet little village. The language barrier had been the main cause, but as he grew accustomed to the play on words and phrases, that confusion slowly disappated. However, he still found the things they did to be unendingly confusing. He didn't ask though, he rarely did. Instead he just walked with his companion, rode down the elevator, and walked into the holding room silently. However the moment they entered the room, all confusion as to his friend's nerves was gone.

That didn't stop the smile from spreading across his face though. "Rogue!" The girl's head snapped around. Her face was tight and her lips pursed angrily as she turned away from an obvious fight with her one time mentor. The moment her green eyes landed on him, however, she forced the anger off her face and substituted it with a friendly smile. It was obviously forced, but Piotr didn't mind.

"Hey, Petey."

Her voice sounded worn and tired, surprising the Russian giant. He followed her eyes as she glanced over at the cell only to see a very affronted young man standing behind the glass, his arms crossed heatedly over his chest. He ignored Rogue's voice as she turned back to her conversation with Logan and turned his baffled attention to the tiny girl watching the hostile pair with wide innocent eyes.

That was one of the things he'd always loved about her; how innocent her eyes shined. Feeling compelled to ease her worries, he made his way to the girl and gently laid his hand on her shoulder, engulfing it beneath his large palm. She turned to him with those impeccable eyes before casting another worried look at the pair. Piotr wanted to say something, anything, to the girl, but lost his opportunity when the door to the room slid opened.

All eyes turned the door once again as the rest of the team entered. Kurt, Hank, Jubilee, Warren, and finally Ororo silently walked in.

Being the girl she was, Jubilee felt her eyes glued to the man in the cell. Only one word entered her head, and nothing else. Well, it wasn't so much a word as a girl-y squeal. It wasn't her fault really. She tried to think, really she did! OK, so maybe she didn't. After all, around a guy like that, a girl had an excuse not to think. So, she did what she did best. After all, that always required no thought on her part. She let out a wolf whistle, "Next time you go chasing after a hunk, I wanna come."

The man in the cell smirked at her.

No one else paid her any attention though, as her eyes weren't the only ones glued to him in surprise. Out of everyone who was staring at him, it was Ororo who had more of a reason than any. The feeling that bubbled up in her could only be described as agitation. In a manner unlike the African Goddess, Ororo marched up to the control panel and hit a few keys, effectively freeing the captive from his prison.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

Logan's voice reverberated off the walls and into everyone's ears.

Ororo turned to a heated glare on him, surprising everyone in the room. Logan wasn't sure, but he could almost swear he could hear thunder crashing outside. Placing her hands on her hips the Goddess turned that agitated expression to the bewildered young man still standing inside the cell.

"What is wrong with you, child?" She snatched up his ear between her fingers and yanked him out of the cell. He let out a surprised cry as he turned and looked up at the woman, suddenly very intimidated, "Stealing from us? From _me_?!" She let out a displeased sigh, "Honesty, Remy, I thought even you wouldn't do something that..." For the lack of a better word, she spat out, "_Stupid!_ Think of what your father would say?! He raised you better than that!"

It took everything Rogue had to lift her mouth off the floor. She had a feeling everyone else was having the same problem she was. Ororo Munroe, the perfectionist, the African Goddess, knew the _thief_ that had stolen from the Institute. Not only that, but she knew his _father_?!

For his part, the thief seemed to be in a stupor. His mouth was also hanging open and he didn't move as his eyes scanned her face from behind his sunglasses.

Fed up with the silence, Ororo waved her hand in the air, "Well?! What do you have to say for yourself, Remy Lebeau?!"

There was a small moment of silence where the man now identified as Remy Lebeau just stared at the African woman.

"Do I know you?"

xXx

Scott felt like he should be sipping tea. He really wasn't sure why.

"So you don't remember... _anything?_"

The woman's voice was unsure, if not a bit confused. She stared at him quizzically, waiting an answer. Her name was Angela and she had been an orphan living in this place at one time. At the same time as him, apparently. But as Scott had just revealed to her; he didn't remember.

"Nothing before a few weeks ago." His head hung low and he itched for a cup of tea or something for him to fiddle with. Shaking his head, Scott decided to open up a secret he wasn't sure he should tell. The woman did seem somewhat familiar, and did seem to remember him, "The only reason I even know my name is because... well... it's like someone keeps screaming it at me."

Angela nodded and slowly leaned back in her chair, "I see." She nervously crossed her arms and bit her lower lip. "How did you know to come here though?"

It was a good question and Scott desperately wished he had a logical answer for it. But all he could do was shrug, "I'm not sure." As ridiculous as it may have sounded, Scott couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with the voice he kept hearing. "I think I'm suppose to find something here though." He shook his head again. He sounded crazy, he knew, "I'm just not sure what."

_LISTEN!_

Raising an eyebrow, Angela threw out a possibility, trying to be as helpful as she could, "Something you left here?"

It was a good guess, but it didn't feel right. Begrudgingly, Scott shook his head. "That doesn't sound right." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wincing at how dirty and coarse it felt.

_HELP!_

Elbows on her knees, Angela leaned forward and pondered the reasons. Her eyes unfocused as she searched. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at a memory, "You know," Scott looked up at her expectantly, "I remember when we were little, about twelve. You had just gotten through a beatin' by Lefty and some of his friends," Scott stayed silent and tried to delve out the memory, it seemed important suddenly, "They moved on to me after." She shrugged helplessly, "Something about the children who were different set them off -"

"Different?" The word left a grisly feeling in his gut.

Angela nodded, "Yeah. Me being one of the only black kids then didn't help any." She forced a small smile on her face, "And you, being the self-proclaimed protector of the orphanage didn't get off any easier." She looked down at her hands before diving back into the memory, "They didn't even get one hit in on me. You jumped in front and took the first hit. And the next, and the next." She let out a sigh, "I don't know if you knew this ever, but you were like the hero for all us kids." She chuckled, "Hell, even Michael Milbury -head of the orphanage at the time- was obsessed with you. He didn't seem to care about anyone else."

"Michael Milbury? Lefty?" Scott shook his head. It hurt. It literally burned as these names turned in his head. He let out a small grunt of pain and held his head between his hands.

_SCOTT!_

"You still get those headaches, huh?"

"Uh...," Scott looked up in surprise at that, the dull ache throbbing, "headaches?"

Angela nodded, "Yeah. You use to always get them. Mr. Milbury even ordered one of the staff to take you to see a doctor because of it, and let me tell you, he don't just go sendin' --"

_DOCTOR!_

"What doctor?!"

Angela jumped back at his outburst, fear in her eyes. His heart beat painfully in his chest. His head felt like exploding. And Scott had the dangerous feeling of throwing up. He didn't know why, but the name was extremely important and scared him beyond reality.

"I-I'm not sure. A-Are you OK?"

"Just..." Scott took in a deep breath, trying to calm her and his speeding heart down, "I just need you to tell me what happened to me here." If he hadn't been wearing his glasses, Angela could only imagine how desperate those eyes must have looked. "Please?"

Angela slowly nodded, "All I remember is that you came back with those sunglasses, claiming that they got rid of your headaches. You got them when you around thirteen, fourteen... I'm not sure." She kept her wide eyes locked on Scott, suddenly feeling very nervous, "I do remember when you turned fifteen or sixteen you came back one day terrified. There were people outside yelling strange things, calling you a - a monster. That was the last time I saw you. You snuck out that night, no one saw you leave. I remember you refused to take off those sunglasses for even a second that day." she added that last part with a tiny whisper. "Mr. Milbury was pretty upset. He didn't want you to go. Neither did I. But you did. And no one could blame you."

_PLEASE!_

"What happened to Mr. Milbury and Lefty?"

Scott wasn't sure why, but this question seemed incredibly important.

xXx

There were only two people in the room now. Ororo had ushered everyone out but her and the thief. She knew better than to reveal certain secrets in front of the X-Men. They didn't need to know about her past, the life Xavier saved her from, or the life Remy chose to keep. They wouldn't understand. So now here she stood, her blue eyes turned to her long time friend, her brother. It broke her heart how he just stared back at her from behind those damnable sunglasses with no recognition of who she was. How he didn't greet her with his usual impertinence or call her 'Stormy' left her confused and bewildered. It was so unlike the man she knew.

"You do not remember me, child?" Her voice was soft and slow. She couldn't help but wonder if this was a game of his. Another prank he was pulling on her like so many before. If so, she would be ready to smite him down for all the trouble he caused, but at the same time be thrilled his memory loss wasn't true. However, the look on his face and the shake of his head, proved to her otherwise. So she let out a soft sigh and ran a graceful hand through her hair, missing the impossible length from before, "What is it you do remember?"

He hesitated.

That proved to Ororo that this was in fact the same man standing before her. He was always careful, always thinking out his actions before actually doing them, though many claimed otherwise. There was always a meaning behind every one of his moves. He never did anything unless he had a good reason for it. He hated being thrown off his guard, like now.

But something was different. If there was one thing that Ororo had always prided herself on when it concerned the Lebeau family, it was that she could always tell whenever something was off with them. Though Remy had always claimed otherwise, Ororo knew he felt shame for some of his past actions. What those actions were, she didn't know and would never know. And she was fine with that. She had a feeling that whatever it was he first remembered, it was going to fall under a category she wouldn't begin to understand and therefore, would not be told.

Not for the first time, Ororo felt her heart go out to Remy, "Alright." He looked up at her, his mind leaving that memory behind for the moment, though Ororo was sure, that just like all his other regrets, it would haunt him at night, "What ever it is you do not wish to tell me, don't. All I need to hear, is what you are willing to say, my friend." She offered him a soft smile, "I have spent many years listening to your stories, knowing that you cut many key factors from your life out of them. I only offer an open ear for the things you are prepared to tell."

That seemed to put him at ease somewhat. He looked down at his feet, his face perfectly impassive – another sign that this was in fact Gambit. Gingerly, Remy reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. It wasn't a surprise to Ororo really, and she barely batted an eye at the action, especially when he started shuffling them. It was when he pulled one card out, however, that she stiffened and looked up at him in surprise as he showed it to her.

The word _GAMBIT _was scrawled across one of the Jokers.

To say she was confused was an understatement. This was the first thing he remembered? Ororo shook her head, "How long ago did you... were you aware of..." She wasn't quite sure how to phrase her question.

But she didn't need to, because Remy quickly knew what she was trying to ask, "A few weeks 'go. Not sure 'bout de exact time."

She let out a small huff as she tried to think of what to do. "My Goddess, Remy." Remy rose an eyebrow, "What have you gotten yourself into this time?" She gave him a sisterly smile, "Every time I see you, you're either running from some new opponent, getting ready to pull a big job, or just finished some excursion that I do not wish to hear the details to."

Remy couldn't help but smile at that. There was a tickling in the back of his mind, as if he was trying to remember something, but he wasn't sure what it was. Actually, he knew exactly what he was trying to remember, but he just couldn't seem to pull up the memory. There was still a way to figure it out, however. Raising his chin and leaning forward, his arms up on the back of the chair he had snatched earlier, he asked the question, "How'd we meet, _chere_?"

Ororo couldn't help the light airy laughter that rose from throat. It was a good question and it was a story Ororo loved to tell. Unfortunately, she was not willing to tell many people. In the past, whenever someone asked about it, she would just smile and say something akin to "We've known each other since I was a little girl in Cairo" and leave it at that. The only ones who knew the whole story were the Professor, Scott, and Jean, though none of them ever had the pleasure of meeting Remy himself.

Suddenly, Ororo's heart clenched and burned at the thought. She was the only one left from that time. This was not the first time the thought had sailed through her mind, but it hurt just as much today as it did the day the Professor died.

No, not died. _Disappeared._

Feeling a little bit of hope spring back to life, she smiled up at the bewildered young man. "Well, it began in Cairo..."

xXx

It had been hours since the head of Xavier's School For The Gifted had kicked the X-Men out of the holding room. The afternoon had come and gone and still the Goddess and the Thief had yet to leave the room. Evening had settled in the manor and everyone had went their separate ways. The younger students slept in their beds, while the older ones messed around in one of the many recreation rooms the manor had to offer. The X-Men themselves scattered. Beast headed to the med room, claiming that with all this excitement it was only inevitable someone would end up there at the end of the night, all the while keeping his eye on the arguing Rogue and Wolverine. Warren had headed towards the Danger Room, seeming a mite bit edgy as he was never really one to stand heated verbal arguments– something about his parents.

Wherever it was that everyone else had run off to, Rogue had no clue. All she knew was that after Logan had gone red in the face and stomped off in the middle of an argument, muttering something about riding his motorcycle the few people that were left in the room had all jumped up and ran away from her like she was emitting some type of radiation.

So now, here she was in the TV room, flipping through channels. Alone. As always. Her arms were crossed stubbornly over her stomach and her crossed legs were bouncing in agitation. If she didn't think that everyone would have put up a fight with her, she would have tried to join Warren in the Danger Room. Rogue almost scoffed. This wasn't her life now.

"Hey."

Instinctively, Rogue turned and looked over her shoulder. She almost rolled her eyes, but restrained and instead just turned her attention back to the TV screen. She kept silent as the person behind her stood there for a few moments. The slow, almost cautious, shift in the cushions, told Rogue that she wasn't going to get her alone time. But still she stayed silent.

"What's up with you?"

His voice was annoyed and irate. Rogue just turned her eyes towards him, not answering. Bobby let out a breath and shook his head. "I mean..." Rogue turned her eyes back towards the TV, shifting uncomfortably as Bobby stared at her, "I knew we were done when you said you were leaving the Institute... I accepted it." He added that last part in a whisper, "But then after the first week you stop calling and e-mailing everyone. You-"

"Ah had three jobs." Her voice was sharp, "Ah was a lil' too busy for socializin'."

"You completely cut us off!" Rogue turned sharp eyes back to Bobby, only to start at what she saw. This was the first time that she actually _saw_ Bobby since she left. And that look in his eyes was one that Rogue had never seen: Anger. She had seen Bobby upset, heartbroken, and lonely, but never had she seen him angry. Seeing that he got his desired reaction from her, he continued, "You isolated yourself from the Institute. I half expected that with me. But _Kitty_?! She's your best friend Rogue! She's been worried sick, and you've hardly said two words to her since you came back!" Rogue opened her mouth to defend herself, but never had the chance to utter a word, "And what about your other friends? Just because we aren't together anymore doesn't mean I still don't care about you, Rogue." His voice softened, "You're my friend. You know me better than most, and..." He stopped short and cleared his throat with a shake of his head, "Why? Why did you cut us out? Why did you even leave in the first place?!"

"'Cause Ah regret it."

It was said in an feather light whisper. The silence that followed stabbed Rogue in the stomach, so she leaned forward in an unconscious attempt to shield herself from his scrutiny. Why she said it, she wasn't sure. It wasn't like it was really any of his business. Besides, he wouldn't understand. He always thought he did, but he didn't. He'd try to be insightful, helpful, but he'd just make things worse. He had no idea what it was like. To see the way people stared at you as if...

"You regret coming here?"

The disbelief in his voice stopped her mid thought. Bewildered green eyes met ice blue ones. "What?! _No!"_ Just like Bobby, he took it in completely the wrong direction, "Ah never regretted comin' here. Y'all are the only family Ah ever..." Rogue let her words trail off, knowing that he'd understand at least that, "What Ah regret is the cure."

Bobby blinked in surprise, "But I thought... that you hated your powers?"

Rogue nodded, "Ah did... still do actually." At his completely lost look, Rogue couldn't help the small smile that formed, "Don't get me wrong, Bobby, Ah still see my mutation as a curse. Ah think Ah always will, but..." Rogue tried to think of a way to explain it in a way he'd understand. He had said she knew him better than anyone, maybe it was time she revealed part of herself to someone, "When Ah put Cody in a coma," That grabbed Bobby's attention. Rogue hated talking about her life before the Institute, "Ah went to the hospital with him, Ah was there when the doctors told his parents." Rogue swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head, "The look the gave me," She looked up at Bobby, "The look that your parents gave ya when you told 'em what you could do..." Rogue looked down at her hands, "It was the same look everyone was givin' me here after Ah took the cure." There was a small moment of silence as Bobby took in the information, "It was like my mutation surfaced all over again."

"I didn't think..." Bobby quickly stopped himself and looked back up at Rogue, "I didn't know that's how you felt. But... what about the ones who didn't look at you like that Rogue? I know Kitty never did. And I'm completely sure that Peter never did."

Rogue shook her head again, "'Course not, but..."

_BUZZ!_

Rogue and Bobby practically jumped six feet in the air. They shot each other confused looks. The corner of Bobby's lip quirked up and he quickly bolted out of his seat. Rogue sat there for a second blinking stupidly before she realized what he was doing. With a grin, Rogue shot off of the couch and dashed after him. It really wasn't that long before she caught up with him downstairs and the two raced down the hall. Their destination in sight, Rogue and Bobby tried to pick up their pace and slam their hands on the door handle. Unfortunately, the handle was too small for both their hands, but the sharp slap Bobby's appendage received was enough for Rogue to take over and quickly slip through the door and into the security room first.

She flashed the two that were already occupying the room a surprised smile as Bobby followed her in, rubbing his now red hand.

"So, who's flyin' in?"

Storm merely glanced at her, while Remy, who had quickly turned around when she entered, turned back to her and Bobby and nodded in acknowledgment, sunglasses on his face once again.

"Moira has sent us a telepathic associate of hers. We are hoping that she will be able to use Cerebro."

Rogue nodded and plopped down in one of the chairs next to Ororo. "Oh," She glanced at Bobby then at Remy before turning her attention back to Ororo, "So, why are we wantin' this gal t' use Cerebro?"

Both Bobby and Ororo looked up at Rogue, realizing for the first time that no one had told Rogue or Logan about the new information. Bobby had seen Piotr and Kurt explain the situation to Kitty, but Rogue and Logan had been so engrossed in their argument, no one had thought to interrupt them with the information. What with the fear of losing a limb and all.

Ororo leaned forward and gently touched Rogue's bare hand with her own, surprising the younger girl. "Rogue," the tone in her voice was very precise and cautious, "Moira McTaggert called us this morning. Professor Xavier is alive."

Rogue suddenly felt very lightheaded. The news itself was shocking and Rogue swore her heart stopped for a moment and that the blood had literally stopped rushing.

But as with most things involving Rogue, the moment to have an actual reaction was cut short.

_BUZZ!_

"_Requesting permission to land."_

Ororo turned back to the screen she had been watching just moments earlier, "Permission granted." She hit a few buttons on the control screen in front of her, allowing the jet access to the hangar.

"Welcome to Xavier's School for the Gifted, Miss Frost."

xXx

Next Chapter: Emma uses Cerebro and finds a few unexpected things, Scott continues his search, Kitty gets an uneasy feeling and confides in... Warren(why Warren?!), and finally we get a long awaited ROMY moment.


	7. But Don't Tell Anyone

Sorry it took me so long. I've had so many reports and tests to study for since college started back up again. Plus work full time and trying to have an actual life... ::sigh:: But I've finally finished it!!! Yay!!! Next chapter will probably take just as long, if not longer.

I gotta say, I had a good time with the ROMY scene. I think I may have hurried the ending and i may rewrite it, but if i do, it will essentially stay the same, just more detail.

Chapter 6: **But Don't Tell Anyone...**

xXx

"_I said forget it!"_

_Jean marched off, her hands fisted at her sides. Scott rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air while her back was to him before heading after his fiancé. Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, she stopped. With hard green eyes she glared at him, demanding an apology._

"_I'm not apologizing, Jean!"_

_A look of aghast flashed across her face before she waved her hand, knocking his off her shoulder, and marched off once more. Once again, Scott caught up to her, but this time he grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him._

"_I'm just worried about you, which I have a right to as your fiancé!" Jean rolled her eyes, but didn't deny the truth to his words. She crossed her arms stubbornly and lowered her gaze to stare angrily at his chest, refusing to look at his face. Scott let out something between a frustrated sigh and an aggravated yell, "You know, we never had trouble telling each other what was wrong until -"_

"_Until what?" Jean looked up and glared at the taller man. She knew where this was going and it pissed her off. An amazing feat when concerning the normally calm telepath. Only Scott could get her riled up like this, "Tell me, Scott, 'cause I'd really like to know what the start of _all_ our problems are!"_

"_You know I didn't mean-"_

"_Yes, you did!" Her voice grew louder and she ignored the random heads poking out of their bedroom doors, "Logan's become nothing but a scapegoat for you. You know just as well as I do, that nothing would and will ever happen. We don't even know each other!" _

"_I know, but-"_

"_BUT nothing!" Jean threw her hands above her head for emphasis, "NOTHING! Ever since he left, you've been following me around! And it's not in the cute lost puppy dog way you did when we first met, it's like my own personal parole officer! I feel like I've committed a crime, and I haven't!" Jean paused and her forehead wrinkled in slight pain, causing Scott to stiffen and reach for her. She stepped away from his hand and took in a deep breath to calm herself. Sending Scott an almost apologetic look, she started walking away, leaving him alone in the hallway._

"_I just want some time alone..."_

Scott sat up in a cold sweat. He threw his sheets to floor and quickly stumbled into the bathroom. The dry heaves did nothing but hurt his throat and make his vision swim. He fell to the floor and leaned back against the cold wall, running a shaky hand through his hair.

_I just want some time alone..._

For some reason those words ate at him. That woman, Jean, was a big key to his past, he knew, but for the life of him he couldn't remember! She was beautiful, though. That long red hair, those angry green eyes, that soft voice...

The voice!

Scott bolted up to his feet, only to get slammed into a wall of lightheadedness. He slowly let himself slide back down to the floor, silently reprimanding himself for standing up so quickly.

But the voice, Jean's voice, had been the one he'd been hearing. The one speaking to him, begging him for help. If only he could remember, he had a feeling he'd be more able to help her, find her.

With a heavy sigh, Scott managed to push himself up onto his feet. He looked around his motel room with disdain. It wasn't a pretty sight. The wallpaper was pealing off, the lights were burned out, and the floor was softer than the bed. If it wasn't for the fact that the carpet was covered with some food, grime, and something he had a feeling he'd be much better off not knowing, he probably would have opted to sleep there than on the bed.

Rolling his head to try and get out the kinks, he let himself flop onto the board like bed. It didn't take very long for the exhaustion of the last couple days to come back to him. His eyelids drooped and he slowly drifted off into a light sleep.

xXx

Kitty liked to think that she was an open minded young girl who gave new people the benefit of the doubt. However, she couldn't help the uneasy feeling that welled up in her chest at the sight of their newest visitor.

_Emma Frost._

The woman was tall and blonde. Kitty couldn't help but compare her to a life-size Barbie doll. If Barbie had an apathetic expression and had an unhealthy love for eyeliner. The woman's business suit was completely white, and her skirt was much shorter than appropriate for your average business woman.

Her cold blue eyes silently scanned the room with a pretentious air. She had barely spoken two words to anyone since she arrived. She had demanded to be taken to Cerebro immediately. She slowly turned around and stared at the group gathered outside the door. Her gaze landed on Remy a second longer than warranted before she turned her attention back to Cerebro.

"I am not sure how well Cerebro will work with me." Her voice matched the coldness in her eyes, "I require you all to wait outside while I see how it works."

A frown slid down Kitty's face, but she stayed silent. It really wasn't her place to say anything when Cerebro was involved. She had never touched it and wasn't really one hundred percent sure on how it worked. All she knew was that letting someone else besides the Professor use it was a sensitive subject for everyone in the mansion. Hell, everyone had freaked when Jean used it to find Rogue, and she was basically the Mini-Professor. Her back stiffened as the door to Cerebro slid closed, locking everyone outside it's chambers for the next few minutes. Her heart seemed to pick up speed and she ignored the looks she was getting from Piotr and Remy as she folded her arms and held them tightly in front of her. Taking in a deep breath, it took just about everything Kitty had to keep from shaking. Why this bothered her, she wasn't sure, but it felt bad.

It felt all kinds of bad.

Everyone else around her was stiff as well, especially Remy who had just been informed by Ororo what kind of machine it was. Piotr was as stoic as ever, something she found herself envying greatly. Logan was leaning against the wall as if he had just been hanging out there all day. Remy was standing stiffly between Ororo and Rogue (who was fidgeting nervously), the only two anyone ever saw him around since he appeared. Bobby, Kurt, and Warren had been left with the _arduous_ task of babysitting and keeping the students under control.

Finally, Kitty turned to Ororo, somehow managing to keep from jumping back and forth on her feet to calm her nerves, "Are we sure this is a good idea?"

Emitting that normal calm radiance the African Goddess seemed to always possess, she let a frown grace her features as everyone turned towards her, waiting for an answer. She spoke slowly and cautiously, as if afraid that what she said would be interpreted the wrong way, "She is a friend of Moira's," At Kitty's scrunched eyebrows, Ororo quickly added, "And I have heard the Professor speak of her once or twice as well." That seemed to ease everyone around them, and some of the tension slowly disappeared, "Though I will admit nothing that I have heard has been extremely heartening, it has also not been completely discouraging." At their questioning looks, Ororo continued, "The Professor has spoken of her telepathic abilities. While, not as strong as Jean's were, she _is_ of average strength of most telepaths, but is highly skilled in her tactics. Miss Frost is also very..." Ororo paused to search for the nicest word she could find, "... vain."

Kitty turned her eyes back to the door as everyone took in Ororo's words. Just as everyone began to feel somewhat better about the situation, Kitty spoke, effectively destroying what little relief they had, "So... if she were to decide it was in her favor to screw us over..." Kitty turned took in a deep breath and let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.

Everyone grew nervous when Ororo didn't respond.

xXx

_He looked around with wide eyes. His heart already racing, he felt his stomach twist and drop. He hadn't thought it possible, but he was more terrified now then he had been five minutes ago. He stumbled into the room, wincing in pain each time he took a step with his left leg. Holding his right wrist against his chest, he used his left hand to keep himself from falling over. His stomach tightened angrily each time his hands touched the metal beds and tables. He tried to keep his eyes on the other side of the room, but he found it impossible not to look at the bloodstained knife or rag when he passed them by. _

_Without realizing it, Scott gripped the side of a cart. The moment he shifted his weight to it, he and the cart crashed to the floor. His glasses flew from his face and landed somewhere in the mess around him. With his eyes scrunched close, Scott began his frantic search. His hands passed over needles and knives, cutting into his skin, until they finally felt the familiar texture of smooth plastic._

_BANG!_

_Scott's throat closed up and he clumsily slipped his glasses back on before bolting to his feet and running to the door on the other side of the room, ignoring the screaming hot pain in his legs and abs. He grasped the cold handle with his left hand and felt his world spin. Ignoring the sudden urge to lose his stomach, Scott tried to turn the handle, only to find it locked. Looking around frantically, the only other way he saw out of the room was the way he came. And there was no way he was going back there. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Scott slowly reached up towards his glasses. He clenched his eyes shut. The next few seconds felt like hours as the fifteen year old slowly slipped his glasses up and opened his eyes..._

Scott shot up.

And fell off the bed.

He took in a shaky breath as he leaned back against the side of the bed. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes from behind his glasses, trying to will his newfound headache away.

xXx

Smoke blew out from between his lips as he stared aimlessly into the sunny sky. Remy felt like he should be thinking about something, anything. But the only thing that would pop into his mind involved that man from the park and what he did to him and those others. He still couldn't remember why he was down there with that group. He remembered the incident though, even remembered remembering why he was there. He closed his eyes and suppressed a frustrated growl.

Deciding it was best to not think of that, Remy turned his mind over to the new blonde woman. The look in her eyes, the strange feeling he got from her when she stared at him.

He may not remember much, may not even recall exactly what his powers were, but he figured out early on that he was an empath. And that the feeling he felt when she stared at him wasn't his, but hers.

It was strange...

"Hey."

The cigarette dangled between his fingers as he rolled his head to the side. He tilted his head in acknowledgment before bringing the cigarette back to his lips. Remy watched out of the corner of his eye as Rogue took a seat next to him on the bench.

"How ya doin'?"

A simple, if not annoying, question. Remy couldn't count the number of people who asked him that question since he got here. So instead of answering, he just grunted and blew out a cloud of smoke.

At least she had the decency to let out a remorseful moan as she winced in recognition. "Sorry, forgot that ya've probably been asked that at least a thousand times already."

Remy didn't respond and instead just blew out another cloud of smoke. He rolled his head back and stared up at the stars. He contemplated taking off his sunglasses, but decided against it. True, Rogue had already seen his eyes, but not everyone else had. And he knew from recent experience that even fellow mutants could be cruel when it came to things like that.

Realizing that he wasn't going to say anything on his own, Rogue started talking again, "So, yer the guy that Logan picked up in Canada?"

Remy grunted, "Yup."

Green eyes rolled up to the sky and a small smile inched its way across Rogue's lips. "He picked me up in Canada too."

There was a small moment of silence and it took a good three seconds for Rogue to figure out exactly how the stranger next to her had taken it. She turned and glared at him before rolling her eyes, "Not like _that_. He gave me a lift." Rogue shrugged, "We were attacked and Scott and Ororo saved us."

A puff of smoke blew out of his lips, "Scott?"

Turning her head, Rogue frowned as she saw the look on his face, "Yeah. He died a few months back." She motioned to the three tombstones on the opposite side of the garden, "Scott, Jean, Professor Xavier." She let out a breathy chuckle, "Honestly, Ah'm surprised this place is still runnin' without 'em. Gotta hand it to Ororo though. She's a lot stronger than Ah thought."

"Hmmm..." Remy glanced down at the girl, only to see her attentive gaze on his face.

"So, you and Storm talk about yer past?"

"_Oui_, turns out she don't know that much dough..."

"Really?" Rogue's eyebrows smashed together and she turned a curious look towards Remy, "She made it seem like the two of you were best of friends."

"'Parently we are." He took a deep drag of his cigarette, "Claims dat dough I never told her much o' my past, we were close." He flicked the cigarette butt to the floor and stamped it out, "Like siblings, she said." He shook his head and fixed an intense stare on Rogue, "I find dat very hard to believe..."

Rogue frowned, and without thinking, bumped her shoulder against his, "Why?" She shrugged to herself, "Seems t'me, yer very easy t' get 'long with."

Remy rolled his head towards her, "You flirtin' with me, _chere_?" Rogue's face turned a light red and she sputtered a little, but before an actual word could leave her lips, Remy's hand reached up towards her face and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, "'Cause dat'd be just fine with me..." His voice trailed off and he leaned in a a little more.

The heat rose to Rogue's cheeks and she swallowed nervously. Even though he still wore those sunglasses, Rogue could feel his eyes burning into her. It became so intense that she had to close her eyes to try and ease the burn. Unfortunately, that had the opposite effect.

It wasn't until his lips were just inches from hers that he stopped. He could feel her breath hot against his own lips. He could hear the nervous swallow. The slightest tremble in her frame caught his eye. The heat in her rosy cheeks...

And the slightest burning sensation in his chest and behind his eyes.

Suddenly, he realized what Ororo had meant earlier during their private conversation about his powers. And guilt washed over him.

Remy Lebeau pulled back, his eyes on Rogue's slightly parted lips. He licked his own before turning his eyes up to her closed lids. Without thinking, he brushed the tips of his fingers over her lips, "_Je suis desole, cherie_."

Slowly, Rogue's eyes opened, revealing her deep green eyes, and Remy was surprised with how bright they were.

He cleared his throat and turned away from the confused look, "'Cording to Ororo, I'm empathic." He flashed her an apologetic smile before turning away again, "And can influence others..."

Rogue grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly, "S'okay. Ah understand havin' trouble controllin' yer power." She gave him a small smile, "Ah won't hold it against ya."

Looking back up at her, Remy couldn't help but return the smile.

"So you have trouble with yer power?"

Rogue stiffened a little, but gave his hand a light squeeze, "Ah, uh... Ah absorbed people. Every time Ah touched them, skin to skin, Ah took a piece of who they were into me. Their memories, their personality, would stay in mah head. There'd be a copy of that person in mah head. If the person was mutant, Ah'd get their abilities for a short time too." Rogue looked down at her bare hand interlocked with his, "Ah almost killed three people with it."

"You got control dough? 'Cause I don't feel ya takin' nothin' from me right now."

"No, actually... About three months ago, some company came up with a drug." She gave him a small smile, "Suppressed the X gene. Ah took it."

Remy didn't respond to that.

Instead the two sat there in the garden alone. Hands intertwined.

xXx

The frown seemed to be permanently glued to her face. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest and her chocolate eyes never left the door.

If there was one thing Kitty Pryde refused to do, it was let a feeling just slip through her hands. So the feeling of impending doom was one that Kitty was determined to investigate. And she _knew_ that the source of this dreadful feeling was one Miss Emma Frost. There was something strangely and eerily familiar about the woman. Something the petite girl was desperate to find out. One of the reasons why she was the only one still waiting outside of Cerebro.

The woman had actually left Cerebro hours ago. In fact, it was already the next day. But Kitty hadn't budged. She had stared at the woman, who didn't even glance in her direction, hoping for that little click that would give her the answer she was looking for.

Kitty had never actually entered Cerebro before. There was that feeling of sacredness around it. That instilled belief that no one was allowed in except for Xavier. And the one person who did, hurt herself in the process and developed problems controlling her power. It was Kitty's personal belief that using Cerebro had led to the incident with Jean a few months back. So the fact that someone else, someone who had never stepped in Cerebro before, used it so flawlessly, so quickly, disturbed her.

In Kitty's mind, the sanctity behind those doors had already been desecrated. So she took in a deep breath, followed by the guilty feeling that she pushed down, and made the short walk to the doors. She lowered herself so her face was level with the eye scanner. Her finger hovered above the button to initiate the scan.

"What are you doing?"

"AAHH!" Kitty jumped and spun around. Her wide eyes stared back at blue ones, "Warren!" She placed a hand over her heart, "Don't scare me like that!"

Warren flashed her a charming smile, "Sorry." He rose an eyebrow and nodded to the door behind her, "So what are you doing? Trying to get into Cerebro?"

Kitty glanced behind her, "Yeah." She shifted her weight nervously, "I uh... I know I shouldn't, but I just wanna make sure that... um..." Kitty trailed off and glanced at Warren apprehensively.

All he did was shake his head in confusion, "Why shouldn't you? Cerebro's part of the mansion and you've been here much longer than Miss Frost. Is there something that says you shouldn't?"

"You haven't been here that long. I keep forgetting." Kitty gave him a small smile before turning her body back to the door, "It's an unsaid rule that no one was allowed in here except for Xavier. And the one person who broke that rule lost control of her powers." Kitty placed a hand on the cold metal and stared at her hand intently, "Jean. The woman Logan killed on Alcatraz."

A cold chill ran down Warren's back and he felt his wings flutter a little from around his shoulders. A frown marred his face, "Oh..."

Kitty knelt down in front of the door and pushed the button to instigate the eye scanner. She was unsure if it would let her in, but if not, she could always get in another way.

The blue light hit her eye and scanned it vertically then horizontally. She held her breath as the quarter of a second lasted a good three days in her world.

"Welcome, Kathrine Pryde."

The smile broke across Kitty's face. She stood up and shot Warren a proud look, "I guess the Professor programed Cerebro to recognize me." She took a step into the room before turning back, "Wanna come?" At Warren's shying look, Kitty clarified exactly what she was wanting to do, "This Emma Frost woman..." Kitty shook her head, "I don't trust her. Something about her is familiar and disturbing. I just wanna make sure everything is fine with Cerebro. And honestly? I would feel much more comfortable if someone stayed with me."

Sighing, Warren finally nodded, "Alright. Let's check it out."

Kitty gave him a thankful smile. As the two walked into Cerebro, the doors slid closed behind them.

Xxx

Emma stood in front of the window, her eyes narrowed and cast down towards the gardens. Her light pink lips were turned down as she spoke to the woman behind her.

"Cerebro is a very unique machine."

"Yes, it is." Ororo looked up from her paper work, somewhat surprised. Emma had gone straight to bed immediately after her try with Cerebro. It wasn't too long ago when she had wordlessly entered Xavier's office and headed straight to the window. "He built it long before I came to this school."

Emma nodded, "Yes. He showed it to me and Moira when he and Erik first built it." She never turned away from the window, "I did not get any sort of signature from him while I was in there."

Nodding, Ororo stared at Emma's back, "That's what I was afraid of." There was a small moment of silence, when Ororo realized something, "But you did find something else?"

Emma nodded, her eyes watching the two in the garden intently. "Oh, yes." She took in a breath, "As much as it pains me to admit, my telepathic abilities are no where near your precious Xavier's or Jean's. But, being true to its design, Cerebro enhanced my ability." Her cold blue eyes narrowed slightly, but her face remained expressionless, "And I was able to see a great many things that will make my job here much easier."

Alarms went flaring off in Ororo's mind. She stiffened and pushed herself to her feet, "Your job? You mean helping us find the Professor, of course. Don't you?"

Suddenly jolted to the side, Ororo's mouth went dry and her eyes unconsciously went white. The entire building began to shake, and Ororo's chest went tight as the ceiling began to crack.

Emma, completely stable in all the shaking, never lost the hollow look in her face as she continued to stare out the window, "So sorry, sweetie, but everyone has a reason for their actions."

Ororo let out a scream as the shaking building began to collapse around her.

xXx

"Remy?!"

Rogue fell to her knees, her arms around his shoulders as he breathed heavily and held his chest. Her eyebrows scrunched in concern and she tried to bend around to see his face.

"Remy? What's wrong?!"

"Nothin's wrong, my dear."

Rogue froze and slowly turned around. Her eyes grew wide, and a mixture of anger and fear washed over her.

Standing in the middle of the garden, metal flying all around, stood the one person who had tried to take her life; Erik Lehnsherr.

Rogue stumbled back as he took a step towards her, "Don't be afraid, my dear. You're sacrifice will save our kind..."

xXx

Kitty frowned as she looked around the circular room. Her eyes studied every detail they could meticulously. She moved slowly and deliberately, Warren trailing slowly behind her.

"So..." Warren started, "Is it any different?"

Kitty made her way to the very center of the room, where the core of Cerebro resided, "I wouldn't know." She picked up the helmet and turned to her friend, "It's my first time in here."

"What? You're kidding?" He looked around the room in awe, "It's amazing..." He turned back to Kitty, "So, why are we in here again?"

"Because," Kitty began, "It's the only place that Emma's been where she could have done some damage." She rolled the helmet between her hands, looking for anything suspicious.

"What?" Warren turned an incredulous gaze to her back, "You're kidding."

Kitty shook her head, "'fraid not. Cerebro is designed to enhance a telapath's abilities while they use it." She placed the helmet back in its place. "Once, Mystique was in here." She knelt down and slid a compartment out from the platform. She bent her head all around the equipment, "She somehow manage to sabotage it." Kitty frowned and pushed herself up, "Put Professor Xavier in a coma. Scott got all weepy." She shrugged, "If it wasn't so sad, it'd be cute."

"So..." Warren stepped forward and picked up the helmet, surprised at how warm it was, "Why are we suspicious of this woman again?"

Kitty frowned and got onto her hands and knees. She phased her upper torso through the platform, careful not to trip any wires and destroy the machinery. When her head popped out of the bottom, she looked left and right for anything that could have been tampered with. Disappointed, Kitty pulled herself back up. "I'm not sure..." She sat on the floor, Warren unconsciously followed her actions, "It's just... she's got this weird vibe-y thing-y. When I see her, I can't help but feel the same way I did my first night here."

Warren pursed his lips together, "What happened then?"

Kitty shook her head again, "It's a long story. To put it short, the mansion was almost destroy-" Kitty cut herself off, her eyes growing wide. "Oh my, God!"

Warren stiffened, "What?"

Wide, fearful brown eyes turned to Warren, "I just remembered how I know her!" She shot up and grabbed Warren's hand, "C'mon! We gotta go!" She phased them through Cerebro's doors. "Do you know where Logan is?"

Wings fluttering out behind him, Warren blurted out, "Danger Room!"

Kitty made as sharp turn through a wall and continued to drag Warren behind her as she phased a short cut towards the Danger Room.

The second they entered the room, Warren shouted out in surprise as a saw went right through him. Never before had he been thankful that Kitty could phase other people.

"CEREBRO, END PROGRAM!"

"What the hell do ya think yer doing?!"

Claws still extended, Logan marched a sturdy gait towards the two, fire almost literally jumping from his eyes, "We were in the middle of training!!" Behind him stood Kurt, Bobby, and Piotr.

All of them were panting.

"We have to go! Frost isn't here to help us."

To say they were all surprised would have been an understatement. None of them had ever seen the peppy valley girl so serious before.

Kurt walked up next to Logan, "Vhat makes you say zat, Kitty?" He frowned at her and glanced over at Bobby and Piotr as they walked up next to him, "Miss Frost is suppose to help us find ze Professor."

Kitty just shook her head, "The last time Frost was here she tried to destroy the mansion." Kitty had to actually swallow down her rage before she could speak her next words, "With all the students in it."

xXx

The debris was too much. It was all around her, making it difficult to breathe. Every breath she took, the dust entered her lungs and she choked on it. But she didn't know what was more terrifying; not being able to breathe, not being able to see, or not being able to move. She tried to calm herself down, but she couldn't, it was too much. Too closed off, too tight around her.

She was terrified, and the abilities that had dubbed her a Goddess in her village couldn't help her in a situation like this. She slammed her fist against the debris and thrashed about trying to get loose. The ceiling seemed to be falling continuously. Each new falling debris hitting her before bouncing off and enforcing the cage around her.

Then, suddenly, it seemed that the debris fell faster and harder with a new vengeance. Ororo found herself unable to breathe and moved from hitting the debris to scratch her neck, trying to get it free for air. Much to her terror, the debris seemed to land on her hands, pinning them down to her sides, keeping her from finding a way to breathe.

xXx

"Damn it, woman! Stop clawing at yourself!" Logan shouted at Ororo, as he pinned her arms to her sides and ran her down the hall.

"Are you confident you have her, Logan?" Piotr, running beside the two, held out his arms in an offer to restrain her, but Logan just shook his head.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Pete. I got her." He ran into one of the many elevators, "Just check on the other students, make sure they're alright. And help Kitty restrain the one's freaking out!"

Piotr nodded and ran down one of the hallways. He entered a room only to see Kitty struggling with a panicking Jubilee. The Californian girl's sparks just phased through Kitty as she tried to calm the girl down.

"Jubilee! Listen to me! You are NOT surrounded by a mob! It's me! Kitty!"

Intent on only restraining the girl, Piotr turned himself to steel and headed towards Jubilee. Unfortunately, that's when Sam Guthrie decided to ram him through a wall.

"GET OFF MY SISTER!!!"

Kurt, who was in the room next door, wasn't having much luck either. He got stuck with a terrified Wolfsbane. The young ten year old girl had transformed herself into a wolf and had worked him into a corner. She was growling ferociously, and Kurt was starting to get very nervous.

"It's OK, Rahne, it's me. Kurt... Nightcrawler?" Kurt's eyes grew wide as she pounced. At the last second he bamphed out of the corner and right behind her, "God, forgive me," he muttered to himself as he kicked her side, slamming her head into the wall. It effectively knocked the girl out, and she changed back into her normal human form.

Kurt gently picked her up and ran out of the room. Warren was running down the hallway as well, the sixteen year old Tabitha in his arms. His clothes were singed and burnt, as was some of his skin, but he ignored it and the two made their way to the elevators.

"Vhat's happening?!"

Warren glanced down at the teen in his arms and frowned, "I think Miss Frost decided to play mind games with everyone."

"But vhy?!"

"I don't know."

xXx

_His skin prickled with goosebumps, and not just because of the cold. The look the man was giving him stopped his heart and brought so many insecurities into his mind. Forcing down the lump in his throat, Remy stared back at the doctor with an impassive face. He knew it didn't fool the doctor, it never did, never would. Somehow the doctor knew him just a little too well, and that terrified Remy. Nevertheless, he kept up his mask, his act, and just stared back at the pale man._

_The smile never left Essex's face. He leaned forward, "I have another job for you."_

_This wasn't new. Remy was almost positive he was the only experiment that received jobs from this man. Not by choice, but it still didn't make him feel any better. Especially when he ran into people he knew, but had to avoid for their safety. For a moment, his mind wandered over to Paris, an example of how much the jobs that Essex gave him can hurt those close to him, but he quickly pushed it back out. He leveled his attention on the doctor. He didn't much care what the job was. Not anymore. Remy just nodded._

_The man smiled and pulled out a file, his strangely delicate fingers slowly sliding it across the table towards the younger man. "These are your company." Remy's worn beaten fingers opened the file. The first page showed an Asian woman with long purple hair and a red tattoo on her face. The second page made Remy's chest tighten. Sabretooth. _

_He didn't say anything._

"_Finish this job," Remy looked back up to Dr. Essex, unsure of where this sentence was going. It almost sounded like this was a deal. "And I'll let one of the people in your cell hall go." His confusion, disbelief, and surprise must have shown on his face, because Essex chuckled, "Such a strange deal, isn't it? Why would I let one of you go? Simple: I don't need all three of you." He smiled and leaned back in his leather chair, "So, _you_ get to choose. When this is all said and done, who gets to go home, the man or the woman..." A strange glint appeared in his red eyes, "_or you_."_

_Remy's mouth went dry and he looked back down at the file. He still didn't understand why, but he was quickly coming to the conclusion not to question it. Whenever he's looked the gift horse in the mouth, he'd gotten bit. _

"_I'm sorry." Remy looked up at the doctor again, "I suppose I didn't make myself clear." He leaned forward, the smile ever present on his lips, his sharp teeth glinting dangerously against the bright light over head, "You have to choose _now_."_

_Remy swallowed. Who would he choose? The other one would be doomed to Essex's experiments. Remy suddenly felt extremely selfish. Who was more important to him?_

"_Cyclops."_

_Essex stiffened in surprise, his smile faltering ever so slightly. Obviously, this was not the answer he expected. He didn't ask though, didn't tell him to choose again, just nodded, "Alright. Mr. Scott Summers will be freed."_

_Remy glanced back down at the file. _

_Stormy's long time friend will be spared and she will rejoice in his return. She'll be happy. That's all he wanted._

xXx

Remy's eyes popped open and he took in a gasping breath. His heart beat erratically in his chest and his eyes burned from behind his sunglasses. He tried to push himself off the floor, and wasn't surprised when he found his wrists bound behind his back. He relaxed against the black metal floor and called out to the person behind him.

"What're you gettin' outta dis, Frost?"

Emma glanced back over her shoulder from the Blackbird's control panel, "I take it you remember, Mr. Lebeau?" She turned back around, "I must say, I'm quite surprised. Not many people can even get back onto their feet after Vertigo hits them with a mind-blast like she did you."

Remy grinned, "What can I say? I'm just that good, _cherie_."

"Sure you are." Emma placed the controls on automatic and pushed herself out of her chair. She walked over towards Remy, straddled him with one foot on either side of his hips, leaned forward and grabbed his collar, "But you see, my little darling, you got caught."

Remy's eyebrows shot up and his grin widened, "True, but I still did something even you've failed t'do, _chere_; I got away."

Emma shook her head, "Doesn't matter." She dragged him over to the wall so he could sit upright. "It won't happen again." She stepped away from him, "Nothing's changed."

"Hasn't it?" She stared straight into his burning red eyes and rose an eyebrow in question, "Stormy knows somethin's goin' on. Plus, she got all de Xavier kids with her. You really t'ink she won't come lookin' fer me?"

Emma shook her head, "How exactly do you propose she find you? I was their last hope at finding their precious Xavier. Do you really think they're going to find someone to look for _you_?" She knelt down in front of Remy and frowned, "Do you really think you're on the same level as their precious Xavier?"

When Remy didn't respond, Emma nodded, "That's what I thought." She stood back up, "Besides, Darling, even if they did find you or Xavier, all that would do is doom them to a life of pain." She sat down in the pilot seat and took over the controls again, "And would you really want to do that to your little friends?"

Remy rolled his head away from her and stared at the wall. The corner of his lip quirked up ever so slightly.

xXx

Next Chapter:

Mainly about Scott, his search, and his relationship with Jean. We also find out what Emma's up to and why Remy's so confident. Also... Rogue does something unexepected.


End file.
